What's for Breakfast?

Thirty-One: Up All Night

I find Derek in front of the door of the unit when I arrive. He's leaning on the wall, two eco bags of groceries next to him. He raises his chin as soon as he hears my footsteps, a glimmer of delight in his eyes, and I'm pretty sure he'll see the same reaction on my face. He grins. My heartbeat quickens, yearning whispering through me, and I stroll toward him, spreading my arms.

We haven't talked since the weekend. I've missed him.

"Hey," I say, enveloping him. "What are you doing here?"

He returns my hug, though I feel his muscles stiffen. "Um, I received  your invitation. I'm here to cook a pre-congratulatory dinner."

I pull away slightly, then I lean in to give him a peck on the lips. Derek bats his eyelashes.

"I missed you," I say.

Derek reddens, then he threads his fingers through his hair. "Wow."

"Wow?" 

"I thought you were angry at me. I mean, we haven't talked to each other since the wedding."

"I told you I'll wait. We can talk about it."

He stares down at his white sneakers. "I still haven't decided, Sam. I'm only here because I wanted to see you."

I nod. "And I'm glad you're here. It's okay, Derek. Let's go in."

I grab the keys from my purse and unlock the door. Derek goes straight to the kitchen as if it's his natural habitat. He ties an apron around his neck and starts preparing the ingredients, washing them in the sink. My eyes follow his every movement, savoring his presence in the unit, and I feel my nerves relax.

"You can go change," he says.

I do as I'm told. I put on a baggy shirt and a pair of shorts and then remove my makeup, my long hair tied into my usual bun. I return to the kitchen right away and slide onto a bar stool, elbows on the counter. Derek is mixing the ingredients in the pot. I incline closer to watch him.

"Watch TV or something. I'll call you when it's ready," he utters, slicing the vegetables.

I shrug. "I prefer to stay here. I missed having you around."

His lips twitch into a playful smile. "Are you okay, Sam? As much as I like having you clingy, I also feel like something's wrong."

Derek cocks his head to the side as our eyes meet. The hidden frustration and anger jump out of me, and I finally break into soft sobs. His eyebrows arch, hastily dropping the knife and tugs me into a hug. My head rests on his chest, his fingers stroking my hair. I cry even louder.

"What happened?"

"It's unfair," I answer, sniffling.

"What is?"

"Nina resigned because she couldn't get equal pay, and they chose Clark to replace her because he had connections with the management."

He frowns, gritting his teeth. "Is Clark the sexist prick who annoys you?"

"The one and only," I reply. "I'm okay. I'm just upset." I gesture for him to continue making dinner. He hesitantly returns to the other side of the counter as I dry the dampness on my cheeks.

"I'm not saying it should be me. I'm saying it shouldn't be him," I groan, voice breaking. "I hate this feeling. I don't think I can work properly with Clark as my superior. He talked garbage behind my back before. He said I couldn't get a boyfriend because of my attitude and that I should just stay home—"

Derek flinches, nostrils flaring, his grip on the knife getting tighter. "What the hell? When did this happen?"

"It's been a while," I say, tapping the hand holding the knife. He lays it down.