“Do you like eggs Benedict?”
“Never had it.”
“You’ll like it,” Naomi decided, and got out of bed.
He was right. The normality of cooking breakfast soothed and calmed. The process of it, the scents, a good hit of coffee. The raw edges of the dream, of memories she wanted locked away, faded off.
And she was right. He liked her eggs Benedict.
“Where has this been all my life?” he wondered as they ate at the kitchen counter. “And who’s Benedict?”
She frowned over it, then nearly laughed. “I have no idea.”
“Whoever he was, kudos. Best four A.M. breakfast I’ve ever had.”
“I owed you. You came when I called, and you stayed. I wouldn’t have asked you to stay.”
“You don’t like to ask.”
“I don’t. That’s probably a flaw I like to think of as self-reliance.”
“It can be both. Anyway, you’ll get used to it. To asking.”
“And you brought me out of a panic attack. Have you had experience there?”
“No, but it’s just common sense.”
“Your sense,” she corrected. “Which also had you distracting me with eggs.”
“Really good eggs. Nothing wrong with self-reliance. I’d be a proponent of that. And nothing wrong with asking either. It’s using that crosses the line. We’re in a thing, Naomi.”
“A thing?”
“I’m still working out the definition and scope of the thing. How about you?”
“I’ve avoided being in a thing.”
“Me, too. Funny how it sneaks up on you.” In a gesture as easy, and intimate, as his voice, he danced his fingers down her spine. “And here we are before sunup, eating these fancy eggs I didn’t expect to like with a dog you didn’t expect to want hoping there’ll be leftovers. I’m good with that, so I guess I’m good with being in a thing with you.”
“You don’t ask questions.”
“I like figuring things out for myself. Maybe that’s a flaw or self-reliance.” He shrugged. “Other times, it strikes me it’s fine to wait until somebody gives me the answers.”
“Sometimes they’re the wrong answers.”
“It’s stupid to ask then, if you’re not ready for whatever the answers are going to be. I like who you areright here and right now. So I’m good with it.”
“Things can evolve, or devolve.” And why couldn’t she just let it go, and be right here, right now?
“Yeah, can and do. How long did you say your uncles had been together?”
“Over twenty years.”
“That’s a chunk. I bet it hasn’t been roses every day of the over twenty.”
“No.”
“How long have we been in this thing, do you think?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure when to start the clock.”
“The Day of the Dog. Let’s use that. How long ago was it we found the dog?”
“It’s been about . . . a little over a month, I guess.”
“Well, in the time’s-relative area, that’s a chunk.”
She let out a laugh. “World record for me.”
“Look what you’ve got to work with,” he said, gave her that cocky grin. “Let’s see what Month Three brings around. For now, when we’re done with these really good eggs, we should clean it up, take some coffee up to the deck, wait for sunrise.”
When she said nothing, he touched her arm lightly, then went back to eating. “This is your place, Naomi. Nobody can take it or what it means to you away except you.”
“You’re right. Coffee on the deck sounds perfect.”
Nineteen
Brooding, worrying, second-guessing accomplished nothing.
Still, she sat down, wrote a long email to a friend who would understand. Ashley McLeannow Ashley Murdochreminded her, always had, always would, that life could go on.
She’d nearly called, just wanting to hear Ashley’s voice, but the time difference meant she’d wake her friend before Ashley got out of bed with her husband of ten years come June, got her kids fed and off to school and herself off to work.
And emails came easiergave her time to compose her thoughts, edit things out. All she really needed was that touchstone.
It helped, it all helped, making breakfast, watching the sunrise with the man she had an undefined thing with, gearing up for a day of errands while construction noise filled the house.
Life had to go on.
With the dog as companyand why had she tried to convince either of them she wanted him to stay home?she drove into town. At the post office, she unloaded boxes, carted them in, found herself caught for a full ten minutes in that oddity of small-town conversation.