Less than Perfect

Epilogue {part four}

Epilogue

One Month Later

Part Four

BRIGHT, BLINDING SUNLIGHT poured in through the bedroom's window, bringing Skye out of her deep, dream-filled slumber, and making it hard for her eyes to adjust when she slowly blinked them open. Yawning, she reached out, waiting for Jules to pull her hand in his, but then realized he was nowhere around. She'd been left on the luxurious, king-sized bed, with a soft, silky blanket draped over her, all alone.

When she took a deep breath, she caught the aroma of her favorite breakfast foods—bacon, eggs, pancakes, French toast—and narrowed her brows in confusion. He's making breakfast, she thought, slightly taken aback by the idea, but charmed all the same. And when she crawled out of the bed, tossing the blankets in a messy disarray, she noticed his t-shirt on the floor—the one she'd pulled off of him in their passionate, heat-of-the-moment incident the night before—and grinned, warmed by the mere thought of what they'd done, and almost done.

Snatching it from the place on the floor, she pulled it on, giggling at how large it was on her, coming down past the middle of her thighs. He'll probably like this, she thought, a little too much. But I guess I can afford to give him a little treat.

And with that thought drifting through her mind, along with many others—memories from the night before, mostly—she departed from the bedroom, wandering down the hall, the stairs, all the way through to the kitchen, following the familiar scents of early morning dining.

The smell of bacon filled her nostrils the moment she stepped over the threshold, strong and overwhelming, along with the sizzling sound of the eggs in the frying pan. When she noticed Jules, hustling back and forth between the stove and sink, cooking and cleaning as he went, she couldn't help but let out a quick spurt of laughter. Watching him cook still seemed so unreal to her. What kind of normal teenage boy enjoyed cooking?

He spun around at the sound of her laughter, grinning sheepishly. "Oh," he said, and waved her in, "there you are. Have a nice night, Sleeping Beauty?"

Shrugging, she walked over to him, kissed him quickly on the lips. "Yes, of course," she said, grinning at him. "Last night was amazing. I slept really well, too." Her eyes scanned the kitchen for any signs of the delicious food she'd smelled, and, after finding a small stack of pancakes, a small platter of French toast, and a bowl of assorted fruits, she settled on the fruit, plucking a couple grapes from the vines and popping them into her mouth. "What about you, Prince Charming? Have a good night?"

Returning to his sizzling bacon and eggs, he scooped them both out of the pans, placing the food, half-and-half, on two separate plates. "Yes. The best." He looked at her then, adding, "There's nothing better than waking up to you beside me."

"Yeah," she agreed, snatching a piece of bacon from one of the plates and taking a bite. "So why didn't you wake me? I wouldn't have minded."

"Because you looked so peaceful; I didn't want to disturb you. You'd had a long day yesterday. You needed the rest."

"Well," she said, accepting his legitimate reasoning, "I guess that's only fair. But next time—wake me. All right?"

"Sure," he agreed, handing her the plate she'd taken the slice of bacon from. "Are you hungry? I hope you are. 'Cause I think I went a little overboard with breakfast."

"A little?" she scoffed, chuckling. "You went a lot overboard. But I'm starved. So let's eat."

"Sounds good to me," he said, and let out a little holler. "Breakfast time!"