The Next Best Thing: Part II

Sixty

Min

I woke up bright and early on the twenty-fifth of March, just another warm spring day. My morning routine was necessarily habitual: an early breakfast with Zoe before she left for work, yoga class with Nadine a few blocks away chauffeured by her seventeen year old son, lunch with Zoe sometimes, Carla most times, and Lily once in a while.

Then I had mommy and baby classes in my building's gym area, class which was followed by a walk to the local park a few metres from my apartment, within my doorman's range of sight.

Zoe always arrived home at a quarter to six, fifteen minutes away from dinner. She always cleared up afterwards, or if Eoin was there we'd watch him prepare a gourmet dessert for us. We'd watch movies in my bed until I fell asleep, lately just after seven, then I'd be woken up by her the next day for our breakfast together. The rest of the day would fly past, usually without any deviations outside of the norm.

But on the twenty-fifth of March, I was woken up by a knock on the front door. Zoe had left a note on the kitchen counter, explaining how she had to skip breakfast for an early prep before a very big meeting she'd been raving about all week. She promised to check up on me at lunchtime or before her night out with Eoin, and left a cryptic message before signing off: You'll be well taken care of today. Love you, Zo.

Behind the elevator doors stood Connor Trent in the flesh, a bakery box decorated with the familiar black and white Trent's logo and a bouquet of fresh yellow flowers. "I'm told I'm watching you for the day," he greeted with a sexy smile. "I was also told to bring breakfast, unless you'd prefer I cook something." Connor Trent, cooking food in my kitchen. Which sane person would refuse that?

"I don't know, man. I don't think my kitchen is ready for such a plunge," I shrugged, still standing at the elevator doors with my hands planted on either side of my waist. Laughing adorably in the apartment's foyer, I invited him into my home.

"I'd be truly honoured, Connor Trent. Come on in and let me show you around. I'm guessing you're staying put for the whole day?"

He had been begged by both Zoe and Eoin to care for me that day, to which he agreed readily. He knew more than he was letting on, obviously, but I wasn't interested in that information, yet.

"You can set up shop here. Fair warning, I eat anything that isn't goat's cheese. I have an allergic reaction to it."

"I've got this, Min. Run off to get ready," he shooed me away. "Breakfast will be waiting for you when I come back, and so will I." And with a wink, he went about his cheffy business.

Breakfast was phenomenal, complete with atypical French toast posing as "dessert" with a artistic twist to round off the meal. I was too full by the time I had to attend prenatal yoga, which Connor would also be escorting me to.

"Are you ready, Min? If we don't leave now, we'll be late for class," he yelled from the bottom of the stairs up at me.

"I'll be down in a sec."

He was adamant that I carry my hospital bag with me, just in case. I was due any minute, and he wasn't going to take any chances.

My mat under my arm and my large tote in Connor's hand, we headed out to the yoga studio housed on a quiet street a few minutes away from home, sandwiched between a quaint antique shop and a juice bar.

Connor waited patiently in the foyer until the hour long class came to a close, joining the rest of the spouses and chaperones. He was at the door as soon as we were dismissed, making his way over to me and offering to help with anything. Immediately a few people noticed who he was, which was of course to be expected: hormonal women who had to relish his presence in the studio.