70
Muted morning light.
I wake up alone. Slipping into my skirt and bra only, I meander to Edward's kitchen.
He's on a bar stool, drinking coffee. There's orange juice, bagels, eggs, bacon.
"Thought you bailed on me," I tease.
He eyes my lacy chest. "You were too tempting; had to get outta that bed. Wanted to let you sleep."
He turns on the stool, opening his thighs so I can stand between them, pulling me in for a kiss. In the light of day, it doesn't feel uncomfortable; feels good.
Our defenses are down.
Our true feelings out there now.
71.
"I'm not really a breakfast person," I admit, stealing a slice of bacon.
"Me either. Made a special trip to the store to get all of this."
I chew slowly. Heart swelling. "You're a charmer."
He ignores the accusation. "We're not breakfast people, huh? Yet another thing we have in common," he teases.
"In addition to…" I prompt, expecting a dirty joke.
"Our mutual hatred."
A small, sad smile plays on my lips. He kisses it away.
"I never hated you, Edward."
"Me either," he admits. "Not at all."
A truce.
"Do-over?" I ask, hopeful.
He holds me tight. "Okay."