Married to a Stranger

Chapter Eleven (Part One): Breakey-Breakey

The following morning I woke up to an empty bed. It was hard to sleep in with the fat Sun shining through the annoyingly large windows. In Adrian's bedroom, scratch that, in our bedroom back home the curtains were always drawn, apparently the curtains in this room had been tied up. I sat up straight looking accusingly at my husband's hunched back.

"Some of us actually LIKE sleeping," I groaned, my shoulders were a little stiff and tired from all the travelling and almost getting raped scenario. 

"Some of actually LIKE getting up early," he mimicked me. I didn't need him to tell me that, he obviously was first married to his work and then to me. I thought that after last night something had shifted in him, that something would shift in him. Who was I kidding?

I grabbed a hair tie from the side table  and made a loose bun. I got out of the bed unwillingly and slipped on my owl flipflops. Something about these flipflops made me really happy, they were white with cute little owls engraved on the soul. 

The bathroom mirror told me that I would need a lot of makeup today, only cement could hide those dark circles under my eyes. Twenty minutes later I was out and ready but my dear husband was missing. His laptop laid shut on his little make-do study table, how dare he leave it alone? 

I felt fresh and springy in my colorful printed shorts and a short navy blue fitted crop top. I was down to go to the beach but going alone didn't seem like the perfect idea at that moment. I would probably end up going without Adrian if he threw a tantrum but after last night's events I'd rather just keep him close. 

The possibilities of how last night could have ended had me a little freaked. 

"Adrian?" I sang out. 

"Yes darling," I heard his voice from outside, hold up did he just say darling? I hesitantly walked out in my black flats, what could this be about. 

Ladies and gentlemen, you will not believe what I witnessed with my unworthy eyes. Adrian Darkwood was there, cooking this peasant breakfast with his mighty hands. I raised an eyebrow as I walked around the little granite table top to stand next to him as he flipped pancakes like a pro. 

"To what do I owe this pleasure," I stare down at the gorgeously round pancake. I could not help but admire his strong arms flexing, stop drooling. 

"I thought you'd be hungry so I decided to make pancakes," he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. 

"I didn't know you made pancakes," I investigated. 

"Well, I don't," he started to say. 

"This might be the first time." He brought a plate next to the pan carefully planting the little gem on top of the other already made pancakes. 

"AWWWWWW, THAT'S SO CUTE ADRIAN!" I couldn't help but pull his cheeks, he blushed and coughed. The smile on my lips got even bigger. We both sat at the small four chair dining table with two towers of pancakes. 

"Darling, could you grab whipped cream and maple syrup from the fridge?" That's the second time, folks. 

"What's your new obsession with the word?" I said as I got up and opened the fridge, fishing for whipped cream and maple syrup. 

"Word?" He thought for a millisecond before replying, "Oh you mean darling?" I nodded as I placed the two bottles on the table and took my seat. 

"I've called you that before," he said drenching his pancakes with maple syrup before making a little mountain of whipped cream on it.

"You have, but since we're doing nicknames I will give you one too," I said biting into my pancakes, these were delicious, god damn. 

"These are really good by the way," I said with my mouth full, he just smiled and said a small thank you.