He’s shirtless and the muscles in his back flex as he moves. He hasn’t heard me yet, and he’s intent on what he’s doing—popping a piece of bread in the toaster.
I finally decide to make my presence known. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”
He looks at me over his shoulder with an impish smile. “I didn’t eat before I went to bed, so I’m hungry. I’ll catch a nap later.”
“Why didn’t you eat?” I frown and step up beside him.
“I was too tired.” He yawns.
“Here, let me make breakfast.”
He shakes his head. “No, let’s do it together.”
Ben always prefers for us to do this kind of stuff together, and I find it to be sweet and endearing.
“Okay.” I nod.
He lets me take over with the eggs and he adds more bacon to the other pan.
We work side by side in companionable silence.
One of the best pieces of advice my mom gave me was when she said, “Find a man that even in silence you’re comfortable with. That’s a telling factor, B. If someone makes you nervous to the point that you have to chatter endlessly, then they’re not the person for you. You need to be able to communicate without saying a word.”
As if to demonstrate this, Ben turns away from the stove to grab a plate. He hands it to me to put the finished eggs on.
He finishes the bacon and I begin to put together our plates. I add the eggs and toast—buttering the toast, of course.
Ben adds a pile of bacon to each of our plates. He doesn’t indulge in it often, but when he does, he has it in excess.
We sit at the kitchen table and Winnie comes out of nowhere to jump on the table beside Ben. Neither of us wastes our breath scolding her to get off. She never listens and only turns her nose up at us when we do.
“How did yesterday go?” Ben asks, chewing on a piece of bacon.
“The dress is perfect,” I tell him. “They’re making a few alterations, but it’s almost ready.”
“What does it look like?” He winks.
He asks me this all the time. He wants to know what kind of dress I picked, but I refuse to tell him out of some sense of tradition.
“I’m not telling.” I mock-glare at him with narrowed eyes and pursed lips.
He chuckles. “It was worth a shot.” He rubs his hands on a napkin. “I actually got you something for your dress.” I must make a face because he laughs and says, “It’s nothing bad, Blaire.” He stands and walks over to his work bag. He returns with a small black box. “Open it.” He slides it across the table.
I pick it up and twist it back and forth. I lift off the top and set it on the table. Inside is white tissue paper, further hiding the item from me. Whatever it is, it has to be small to fit in this box. I fold back the tissue paper and gasp. Inside is a pin, but not just any pin. It’s in the shape of a paper crane with glittering blue jewels.
I look up at Ben and he smiles boyishly, his dimple flashing when he shrugs. “Something blue. It seemed fitting so I couldn’t pass it up.”
“It’s beautiful.” I remove it from the box and hold it in my palm. It’s about half the size of my pinky and beautifully detailed. It had to have cost him a lot, but I don’t comment on that. “Thank you.” I set it inside the box and lean over to kiss him. He kisses me back, his hand resting on my cheek to hold me there a moment longer.
“I understand if you don’t want to wear it on your dress,” he says when I slide away, “but I figured you could pin it inside and we’d both know it was there.”
“It’s perfect. Thank you so much.” I smile at him. I’m trying not to get choked up and cry all over my breakfast. I delicately wrap the pin up in the tissue paper and tuck it back in the box.
I put my hand on his knee and lean over to kiss him. He smiles against my lips.
“You really like it?” he asks.
I nod and sit back. “I love it. I can’t believe you found something so perfect.”
He shrugs.
“Ben?” I urge, raising a brow.
He rubs his chin and grins sheepishly. “I may have had it custom made.”
“Ben,” I cry. “That must’ve cost a fortune.”
“It was worth every penny,” he assures me. “No need to worry.”
“You’re crazy,” I tell him.
“Crazy in love.” He winks.
I roll my eyes. “And cheesy.”
“You love my cheese,” he counters.
“I do,” I sigh, fighting a smile.
“Pretty soon you’ll be saying that while I slide a ring across your finger.” He lifts the glass of orange juice casually to his lips.
I shake my head. “Cheeseball,” I tease him again.
He simply smiles and goes on eating his breakfast.
We finish eating and wash the dishes side by side at the sink. He bumps his hip against mine, and when I look up, he lifts his hands from the soapy water and sprinkles the droplets all over me.
My laughter rings through the kitchen. His much louder, deeper laughter soon joins mine. He wraps his arms around my waist, with my back to his chest, and spins me around.