Elizabeth woke refreshed. She was in her old home in her own room and she had her sweet husband's arm flung over her body. Carefully, she extricated herself from him and from the bed. He rolled over onto his back and gave a weird little snore but did not wake up. She grinned watching him.
It was funny sometimes how she'd fallen in love with him. He wasn't particularly exceptional in any way at all. He was apt to be a little grumpy and stubborn more often than not. His face had a boyish roundness—as did the rest of him—and his curly hair was starting to thin and was somehow always a mess. But Elizabeth stood there for a moment and watched him sleep, thinking about how safe he had always made her feel. How much he truly cared about her happiness, even if he did miss the mark sometimes. His mouth kissed her wonderfully but tripped over his words. It was the first time he kissed her, in fact, that she knew she wanted to marry him. Nothing had ever felt more right in all her life. Their first kiss, the first time she woke up in bed beside him, the first time he put a ring on her finger, the first time he called her his wife. It was all so perfect. So perfect. All the rest of the time was all in service of those moments and in search of everything that felt like that. Perfect.
Her stomach growled, so Elizabeth quickly went to the bathroom and put on a robe over her pajamas. She paused beside Matt and kissed his nose as he slept. "I love you, my perfect husband," she whispered. He slept on.
When she went downstairs, she found Dad with a pot of coffee. "God I've missed easily accessible drip coffee," she said, taking his freshly poured mug without another word. England seemed fixated on instant coffee at home, which Elizabeth had never really gotten used to.
He laughed lightly. "I'd forgotten what you're like around the house."
"I'm a delight around the house as long as the thermostat is at a reasonable temperature," she replied.
Dad got another mug and poured himself another cup of coffee, knowing he could keep this one. "Does Matt keep it too cold?" he teased.
"London is freezing all the time and I think we fight every single day about the thermostat, now that we're both home all the time."
"You could always wear a sweater."
Elizabeth put her cup down, surprised. "That's what Matt says! 'Put a jumper on!'"
"So why don't you?"
"I don't want to wear a jumper!" It felt so strange saying those words here in LA. Like a weird colliding of her worlds.
Dad laughed. Elizabeth smiled. It felt nice. Being home felt nice. Well, home with her parents. In a lot of ways, LA wasn't home anymore. London still didn't feel like home in the same way. She still had problems with the weird quirks of the city and the English way of things, but her house with Matt, that was home. Matt was home.
"So what's the plan for today?" she asked her father, taking another sip of coffee.
"I think your mom wants us to go to LACMA today. And Matt looked confused when she mentioned the tar pits, so we'll probably do that, too."
Elizabeth giggled, imagining her sweet husband at the La Brea Tar Pits looking at the garish dinosaurs and exhibits of fossils amidst the oily goop. But the Los Angeles County Museum of Art was one of her favorite places, and she had taken Matt there before but he'd enjoyed it. That would be a nice way to spend the day.
Dad added, "I was thinking of getting some bagels for breakfast. Want to come to the bakery with me?"
She grinned at that. As a child, going on early morning trips with her dad had been their special time. She wasn't usually a morning person, but her mother had always worked odd hours with delivering babies, and her brother had been the kind of kid to sleep till noon if you let him. So Elizabeth got to go to the bakery with Dad when the rest of the house was quiet. They had their pick of fresh bread and pastries and bagels. He'd let her have a chocolate croissant in the car on the way home and would take her right into the kitchen to clean the melted chocolate off her hands and face. It was their little secret. "Sure," she agreed. "Let me throw on some clothes and get my shoes."
Elizabeth jogged upstairs and snuck back into the bedroom. She got dressed as quietly as she could, but the necessary noise of unzipping the suitcase and opening drawers caused Matt to wake.
"Wha…?" he slurred sleepily. His eyes barely opened.
She crossed over to him, holding her socks in one hand after having put on her jeans and a sweatshirt. "I'm going to the bakery with Dad. We won't be long," she whispered. "You can keep sleeping. I'll wake you up when I get back if you aren't already up."
He hummed in response but tilted his face up to her. She knew what it meant. She leaned down and kissed him gently. She felt him smile under her lips.
With a smile of her own, Elizabeth put on her socks and shoes and went back downstairs.
After she left, Matt was half-awake and knew he wouldn't be getting back to sleep. The jet lag wasn't hitting him as badly as it might have, thanks to his nap the day before, but he still felt off. To combat the grogginess, he forced himself up out of bed and staggered his way to the shower. After that, he felt much better.
He got dressed for the day wearing jeans and a casual jumper—not that a jumper was really necessary in Los Angeles—and wandered downstairs. He found Margaret reading the newspaper with a cup of coffee.
"Good morning," he greeted.
"Morning," she replied. "Coffee?"
"Thanks. I can get it," he added when she tried to get up. "Anything important going on in the world?" He nodded at her newspaper.
"Things are quiet with the holiday coming up, but there's snow in the mountains, which is nice. It usually doesn't start till January or February around here. Earlier in Northern California," Margaret explained.
Matt didn't really have anything to say to that, and he was saved from answering by the shrill ring of the telephone.
Margaret got up and went into the living room to answer it. Matt sat down with his coffee.
He barely had two sips before Margaret came back into the kitchen. Her face was pale and her expression worried. "Matt, I've got an emergency at my office. I might need some help. Do you think you could come with me?"
Matt was a publisher and writer and didn't have any medical knowledge, particularly about pregnancy and childbirth. How could he be of any help? But he couldn't very well refuse. "O-okay," he stammered.