Solitude

Forty-Seven

By a little past 8a.m., Sunday morning, I am making my way out of the bedroom when the most amazing scent finds its way into my nostril. My mouth immediately reacts by watering, getting ready to devour whatever is cooking.

Following the enchanting aroma, I find myself in the kitchen to behold Jonathan's back as he flips pancakes expertly. He turns around, mid flip, as though he felt my presence, a smile gracing his lips. I half expect him to accidentally drop the pancake so I can have a reason to doubt his perfection.

He doesn't, like the perfect human being he is. It's like the rest of us should constantly apologize for not being him.

His eyes brighten up in surprise and a hint of admiration, but he returns his focus to breakfast almost immediately, cutting off my view.

"You look positively dashing as always, Mar," he compliments, resulting in my pale cheeks adding a little colour and I can only stare at him like a love sick puppy who has lost all ability to talk because of a simple compliment.

"You're finally awake, Koala!"

Not expecting anyone else to be in the kitchen, I jump, my eyes snapping to the dining table where Mason is seated, typing away on his laptop.

His hair is neatly jelled backwards and his cashmere jacket is so beautiful, I just have to steal it soon enough. I don't think he would notice though. I have swiped a couple of his sweaters and he has never looked around for them.

However, there is something on his face that just doesn't belong and it really shouldn't be there. Ever! Fucking glasses! Whoever sold those glasses to him should be burnt and their ashes should be set on fire also.

"I was beginning to wonder if you were dead. Also, I was going to comment on your beauty, but Joe opened his mouth and sounded like a British knight from the eighteen forties and now, I feel the need to contradict his statement, so you look like a goblin got a makeover from a fairy godmother. While it is now pretty, just wait till the clock strikes midnight."

I inhale sharply, taking a moment to ponder on whether Mason fell down a tree at birth. A goblin that got a makeover? Who says that? Still, I know that is his own weird way of offering me a compliment.

"You're one to talk. You look like a librarian and not the sexy ones," I tease him and his lips part in surprise. Theatrically, he places a palm over his heart.

"I lost my contacts and I haven't gotten them replaced, fuck you! I happen to be pulling this off. I look like a sexy nerd."

"Keep telling yourself that, baby. Keep telling yourself that."

Jonathan laughs that beautiful laugh of his and I lean closer to him and press a kiss against his cheek.

"You look angelic, Nate," I compliment. I attempt to help prepare breakfast, but he politely swats my hand.

"Why, thank you, Mar." He grins widely at me. The sight is infectious; I find myself mirroring it. Behind us, I can hear Mason scoff and mutter something about unfairness and pretty privilege.

He's one to talk!

"Take a seat, breakfast will be served in a moment," Jonathan softly says to me, then looks behind me at Mason, a small frown on his face. "Mase, what have I told you about electronics in my kitchen?"

Mason reaches for his phone but Jonathan passes him a reprimanding glare which makes Mason groan in annoyance.

"Seriously, Mase! You said you weren't going to bother with your father today. Who is so important this early in the morning?" Jonathan teases and Mason sticks his tongue out at him.