Now That I Love You I Can't Hate You

Chapter 8

My eyes open and I'm welcomed by a bright room with sun streaming through the thin curtains. My head is at the top of Darson's chest and my right hand resting on his shoulders. I marvel in his arms for a little bit.

Sometimes it feels like a dream. My life. I've always seen myself getting married at maybe 26, moving into a house with a white picket fence and a small patio, having my first kid at 28. Whatever I imagined is close to the imagination I've drawn up for years but was in no way the plan.

But I love this. I love this so much I could cry whenever I think about it. Tears of joy.

I plant a light kiss on his chest, stopping for just a second to admire his flawless skin just where my lips were. My eyes then trail over to the scar on his left shoulder. I can't help but reach out to touch it. To feel the rough patch beneath my fingers. The memory tries to flood in but I lock that door. Not now. Now I'm fantasizing about our life in the near future.

Speaking of life in the future, will we have one? The smell of pancakes drift into the still air. Diha is going to burn this place down. That girl is never in the kitchen.

I kiss Darson on the tiny scar before rolling away from him. I'm pulled back in his arms before I can escape. "Stay a little longer." His arm slings over me, effectively trapping me in his grasp. I stare at his taut back muscles for a second before snapping out of it.

"Diha is in the kitchen."

"Hmm." He mumbles, snuggling closer into me with his head wiggling its way into my neck. I want to be here too, in his arms. However, I need to check Diha. I need to see the extent of the damage. At least I'm not getting a whiff of smoke.

"She's never in the kitchen."

"Hmm." I smile at his antics. This adorable man thinks he's tough when he's out in the real world.

Diha is making something in the kitchen when I exit. I don't know what just yet but she's making something. "What are you doing?" I eye her, doubtfully. Surely, this is a rare sight. Diha is in an apron, cutting up vegetables. I peer at the frying pan on the stove at the back. I can't believe the sight honestly.

"Cooking." She smiles up at me then goes back to focusing on her chopping. She wants something. There's no way she's doing this out of the goodness of her heart. I know my sister, this isn't her forte. My eyes narrow.

"I can see that but why are you doing it?" I walk around the island and towards the simmering frying pan. At the same time, Diha appears with a spatula to stir the contents in there. I peek at it yet again. Eggs. There is actual eggs in the pan and it doesn't look burnt or disgusting.

"Why can't I do it?" Well, she's all bunnies and rainbows this morning. It's almost like she didn't almost get us knocked out last night. Pretty happy for someone who is practically homeless.

"You mean besides the fact that you avoided our kitchen like the plague?" I open the fridge and grab onto the mug of orange juice. Before I can even place the jug on the counter top, Diha is presenting to me, a glass. I narrow my eyes at her. She's trying to suck up to me so I won't rehash the events of last night in true motherly fashion. Fortunately for her, I'm her sister. I'll only bring it up when she does something outrageous and I need to remind her about how her actions have consequences.

"Khara, you forgot that I was previously a married woman." I take a sip of the orange juice. It's so good. Just what I needed this morning. "Unfortunately, we weren't as bougie as you guys are. We don't have maids." I make a face.

"Our maid comes three times a week and she sure as hell don't do the cooking." I clarify. Darson and I alternate all the time when it comes to cooking. If we're too busy then we buy food for us both on the way home. I think we do a good job in that department.