The Breakfast Serial
Chapter 3 -- Waffles
By Steph
Summary: Four different couples, four very different mornings. There's a reason why it's considered the most important meal of the day.
Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own them.
Rating: PG-13
Quick A/N: Yep, last chapter was about Gypsy and Andrew.
She watched her husband sleep.
Between his regular job and his new additional Town Selectman duties, he had been completely exhausted lately. When he had decided to take the day off for his birthday, to forget about the pestering town and the problematic crops, she had figured he would spend the morning catching up on his sleep.
That was more than fine with her. They would celebrate tonight at a fancy restaurant. And Davey was at his grandparents' which meant they had the whole day alone together.
Something they hadn't had in a long time.
She listened to the rain bounce off the windows. She had taken the day off too and knew it would be a perfect day for mugs of hot chocolate, thick novels and movie marathons.
He snored softly, bundled up under blankets. He looked so peaceful. Yes, she thought affectionately, she could definitely watch the birthday boy sleep all day.
Unfortunately, she was bleeding and needed him to drive her to the ER.
It was not the best way to start a birthday.
"St. James," she told the bored-looking woman at the admitting desk. "You must be new."
She sat down next to her husband. "I'm sorry," she said for the tenth time.
"Don't be," he said.
"You can go home and sleep. I can take a cab home or call somebody."
He shook his head. "I'm not going home."
"I was making waffles for you," she told him, feeling the need to explain. "And I was cutting fruit, because you brought such nice-looking fruit home yesterday and…I don't know. I've been so good about not hurting myself lately."
"You're right," he said thoughtfully. "We haven't been here in awhile."
"I was really starting to miss this place," she joked.
He didn't smile. "I wasn't."
"I know," she said. "I was joking."
"Oh," he said. "Sorry. Not quite awake yet."
"And this was your one day to sleep," she said, shaking her head. "And your birthday too."
"I'm just glad I was home to take you here," he said.
"I could have called someone else if you were away at work," she told him. Then she realized that she sounded unappreciative, which she wasn't. "I prefer your company of course though."
"What if I wasn't home? What if you had been seriously injured?"
"By cutting my hand? It definitely hurts, but I've had dozens of injuries worse than this."
"I know," he said. "And that's what worries me. I don't like you going to the hospital all the time."
"Well, I certainly don't like going to the hospital all the time. But like I said, I have been doing better."
"I know," he said. "I just hate the idea of me not being able to help you if you needed me."
"If you hadn't been here and I hadn't been able to round up a friend to drive me to the ER, I would have just called the paramedics and ridden in the ambulance."
"Yeah," he said. "And we all know how much that costs."
At her surprised silence, he backtracked. "That sounded horrible and it came out wrong. I'm sorry. Obviously if you need an ambulance, you need an ambulance. It's just…I've just been thinking about money lately."
"I know you have been," she said. "Me too."
"We're already working less hours because of the baby," he said. He closed his eyes.
"But that's what happens when people have children, they cut back their hours. And the greenhouse is a success; I know it's been adding a lot of business."
"It is," he admitted. "And it would make even more of a profit if I had time to work on it. But I don't. I'm doing my civic duty for this stupid town and don't have any time left to make a profit." He took a deep breath. "Sorry. We shouldn't be talking about this now. You're in pain."
"It's okay."
"I worry about you," he said softly.
She knew. And she loved him for it.
"And I tend to worry about money."
She knew that as well. When she told him she was pregnant, he nearly had an aneurysm when he figured out how much raising a child would cost.
"It's going to be okay," she told him in what she hoped was a low, soothing voice. "When we get home, well maybe not right when we get home because I'll be sore and it's still your birthday and we should be celebrating and not fretting…, but sometime soon we'll look again at our finances and see if we can shift things around a bit. People have been in far worse situations than we're in and come out okay."
"I hate this stupid Selectman position," he said bitterly. "I never see you and I never see Davey and it takes me away from my job. And what do I…what do we get out of it? Nothing."
"Quit," she told him. "No one would blame you."
"I'm considering it," he said seriously. "I don't think I'm cut out for politics."
"You're a great Selectman. It's just not the right job for you right now," she told him. "And that's okay."
He still looked tense. He began tapping his foot in an agitated rhythm.
"Hey," she said. "If I promise to be even more careful in the future, will you promise not to worry so much? Or at least promise to relax a little and enjoy today? We both have it off and it's still your birthday."
"I'll try."
"Good," she said. "I'll try too."
"Every time that I have to get some kind of painkiller, I'm afraid it won't work," she told him as they walked out into the parking lot. "I'm afraid that they'll discover I've built up a tolerance." She giggled and waved her bandaged hand in her husband's face. "But not this time. Cause baby, I'm feeling no pain."
"Have you had anything to eat today?"
She thought about it. "I had some coffee. Maybe I took a piece or two of fruit before I slashed myself. I was waiting so I could eat waffles with you. What time is it now?"
"Eleven," he said as he turned on the windshield wipers.
"Eleven? And you haven't had anything? You must be starving. You know, I must be starving too."
As he drove, she looked out of the window for possible breakfast destinations. "There's a Denny's. Past the stoplight."
"I thought we didn't do Denny's."
"Well, usually we are huge food snobs, but since we're both starving, we should make an exception." She lifted her hand up again. "I don't think I'm doing much cooking today."
"You're not doing much of anything today," he said as he pulled into a parking space. "In fact, we don't have to go out tonight."
"Of course we're going out tonight," she said. "It's still your birthday and we're still going to celebrate."
"If you're sure," he said.
"I am," she said. "Now let's go to Denny's."
Food snob that she was, she hadn't been inside a Denny's in years. It was exactly as she had remembered with screaming children and sticky tables.
"These aren't too bad," he said sounding surprised, after taking a bite of the waffles he had ordered. "Yours are so much better though."
She didn't respond. She was too busy concentrating on the waffles on her own plate. She realized only after the fact that she should have ordered something like oatmeal. Something that would be easy to eat. Something that wasn't impossible to cut.
She looked up to see his concerned eyes on her. "I can't cut this. I'm going to flag down the waitress and order something else."
"Let me see," he said.
She watched as he took the plate from her and cut her breakfast into tiny bite-sized pieces. When he was finished, he fed her the piece left on her fork.
She watched her husband eat and she realized something. As they made small talk about their friends, their son, she realized that her husband seemed more relaxed and happier than he had in a long time.
She took another clumsy bite of her waffle and laughed at some stupid joke he made.
She had to admit that Denny's wasn't so bad after all.
"So do you want your present now or tonight when we go out?" she asked.
They were in the bedroom and she stared longingly at the still unmade bed. She suddenly felt exhausted.
"Tonight's fine," he said. "Why don't you take a nap?"
"Okay," she said. "Join me?"
"Sure," he said. "God, I'm still tired."
They got into bed and he pulled the covers over them. She closed her eyes and listened to the rain.
"I'm going to quit," he whispered. "I don't want to be Town Selectman anymore."
She opened her eyes and turned to him. "Maybe you'll be happier."
"I know I'll be."
"My hand hurts," she said.
"I can go to the pharmacy for you."
"Not now," she said, feeling guilty. "Relax. Sleep."
"Okay," he said.
"The ER, Denny's and a nap," she said. "This probably wasn't your best birthday ever."
"I'm not complaining," he said.
"So I didn't ruin your birthday?" she asked.
"Not even close," he said and pulled her closer.
To be continued…