In my head, I literally have a list of dates that I want to go on. This is definitely one of them.


Photo #55: Early Cup of Joe

Eadlyn wouldn't say that she's tired of looking at her father's photo wall. She's already seen a lot of pictures and they only seem to be going on forever but her eyes are heavy. The reason behind her drooping eyes is because of all the pain they're seeing. These pictures have her mother smiling and living her life to the fullest when in a nearby hospital room, that same woman is attached to tubes and machines.

"You work too much," her mother would tell her, "take a breather or better yet, a nap."

Eadlyn smiles to herself as he mother's words ring in her head.

Whenever Eadlyn would become sleepy with work still needed to be done, she would get a cup of coffee. Her mother didn't like her drinking caffeine but sometimes a little kick of energy was needed over a power nap.

The next picture has her mother sitting in a café, blowing into her cup of coffee to cool it down. Her eyes staring down at the flaky pastry on a plate in front of her. Eadlyn rubs her eyes, not even thinking about the mascara she knows she's ruining. No amount of caffeine can save Eadlyn now, regardless of how much sugar she puts in her cup.

-o-

"America," Maxon whispers in her ear one early morning, "wake up, darling."

"I don't want to," America replies, yawning to herself as she goes back to sleep.

"C'mon..." Maxon encourages, lightly shaking her shoulders. "I have a surprise for you."

America's eyebrows shoot up at the sound of that special word though her eyes remain closed. She finally drags herself out of bed and puts herself in a pair of jeans, a basic tee with a cardigan, and some slip-on shoes; and does her hair in a messy bun. No makeup is on her face since that requires energy and she has none of that.

After she's finally done, Maxon takes her hand and leads her through the castle. America's glad he's in control because she's lazily following him. The only time she pays attention is when she's required to go down the stairs.

The two of them walk outside the palace doors and America immediately puts her arms around herself. It only hits her now how cold it really is. She looks around and also notices just now that the sun is just cracking over the horizon.

"What time is it?" America asks.

Maxon takes a quick glance at his watch. "A little after six in the morning."

America steps back. "Maxon Schreave, what are we doing at a little after six in the morning?"

"Going out."

He opens the car door for her. She steps in and closes it before getting in the drivers seat himself. He starts the engine and drives the car himself off the palace grounds and into the city of Angeles. As a young teenager, Maxon was only taught the basics of how to drive. He never had to drive himself since he always had a chauffeur but it was a good life skill to learn, kind of like swimming.

"What about the kids?" America asks.

"We'll be back before they wake up," he replies casually. "We can even bring them back something."

Maxon drives through the empty streets as America rests against her window. She watches the stores as they pass by them. Shop owners open the drapes, turn on the lights, and flip the little closed signs to show their 'open' side. Civilians walk their dogs, all while chugging their morning smoothies; hair still damp from that quick morning shower.

The city is waking up just as the sun rises.

Maxon parks the car and America steps out. She closes the door and sees a cute, little café in front of her. Maxon reaches forwards for her hand and she takes it. He leads her into the café and opens the door a little, a bell chiming as they walk in. They're greeted by a barista, who not only bows for respect but smiles with surprise and joy (which impresses the both of them considering how early in the morning it is).

"Good morning, your Majesties," the barista greets with a smile as bright as the sun on her face. "What can I get the both of you today?"

"Short macchiato," America replies. Her eyes gravitate over to the pastry section off to the side and stare with absolute adoration at the grand selection. "And a chocolate chip croissant."

"Make that a dozen croissants," Maxon corrects. He did say earlier that he would bring something back for the kids. "And an Americano."

The barista nods, scribbling down their orders on the side of their cups with a marker. Maxon pays and opens an arm out for America to pick out a table for them. America walks deeper into the café and chooses a high table by the window with high stools as seats. As she gazes out at the rising sun, she hears Maxon approach and take a seat parallel to her.

"You're too sweet, Maxon," America tells him.

"I just figured that since we're busy with four kids and a country, we could use a little time to ourselves. We're still young, America."

America nibbles on her croissant. "Tell that to your graying hair."

Maxon smiles to himself. As America looks down at her coffee, she picks up her cup and smirks at the little illustration on the side of her cup. On her cup and Maxon's, the barista not only wrote the drink but also drew a heart with a crown on it.

"You know," America starts, tapping the simple illustration. "If we were still young and adventurous, we should get this as a matching tattoo."

Maxon chuckles. "That's where I'm drawing the line."

America snickers as she picks up her coffee. She lightly blows on it before taking a careful sip. Maxon can't help but take a photo of his wife.

America licks her lips. From the chocolate croissant to the steamed milk and espresso in her coffee and her handsome husbandness sitting across from her, this is the best morning she could've ever asked for. To the people who said that every morning should start with an early cup of joe, she raises her coffee cup.


I am totally down for getting coffee with my darling at 6:00 AM.

Stay Tuned - Some things just don't get along...