Cupcakes at Midnight

Chapter 11

I wake up and expect to find Ava either gone, or in the kitchen. Instead, she's still sound asleep on the couch. She's rolled onto her side, and Cat is perched on her hip like an ancient Egyptian statue, regal and afraid of nothing.

"Good boy," I whisper as I pet him on the way by.

As quietly as I can, I get everything out to brew some coffee and make some scrambled eggs. I'm not much of a cook, but I can make great breakfasts. If Ava was asleep in the bedroom and not the living room in my tiny space, I'd make biscuits and gravy, but there's just too much risk I'll wake her up with all that noise.

I manage to find a few slices of bacon in the back of the crisper drawer, and I fry that up, too, which seems to get her attention. There are loud, fake moans coming from the other room and I laugh.

"Is Cat getting frisky with you over there?"

"I smell bacon and coffee. Woman, what are you doing to me?"

I close my eyes briefly and consider telling her that I'm treating her the way she deserves.

"I'm just feeding you, so that I don't have to worry about you once you go home."

"I'll peel myself off the couch and come in any second now. Any second," she whisper-shouts.

"It's fine, I'll bring you a plate," I say as I deliver a cup of coffee to her.

"You are a goddess."

I smile and make my way back into the kitchen. There's bread in the toaster, the bacon is draining on a paper towel, and the eggs are already plated. I assembly everything else on the plate, along with some last-minute fruit, and bring it to the coffee table in the living room.

It's still weird to sit next to Ava while not being affectionate in some way, but the rollercoaster of feeling okay with it and then sad about it has dissipated. I've realized that things are working out how they need to; I have a lot of growth to go through still, too. Maybe, just maybe, we can both come out of this stronger people.

When she's finished, Ava reclines and pats her belly.

"That was delicious, thank you."

"Of course. You're welcome."

She suddenly looks anxious. "Do you have plans today? Should I get out of your hair?"

"Nah. Just laundry and Cat. The usual Sunday routine. You're not in my way at all. I like having you around."

My hand itches to grab hers, and I look at her, trying to gauge what she's thinking.

"I like being here. Maybe too much," she says quietly.

"I'm glad you feel safe here."

"Me too."

I reach for the plates, but she beats me to it, her hand covering mine against the porcelain. I look over at her, curious.

"I got it. I can clean up."

Her fingers linger against mine, and I take a moment to make note of how they feel against each other again.

Ava pulls away and I sit on the couch as she commands the kitchen. She's got music playing from her phone and she's singing and humming, swaying her hips in just my t-shirt and presumably her panties, as she washes dishes and cleans up. Like any other domestic weekend morning. Except it's not.

When she's done, Ava sits next to me again, Cat in his usual place between us.

"Do you want to watch a movie?"