The Love We Choose

Chapter 5

"Is it gone yet?" Lynne yelled from the kitchen.

"Yeah, she is. You can change the song now." He walked back into the room and saw she was plating a mixed-veggie omelet next to toast with avocado slices. The sausage was draining on a plate next to the stove. "Thanks for that."

"Sometimes we just need saving from our own primal instincts." She shook her head in disgust. "She is so self-absorbed she didn't even wish you a Happy Birthday." He reached out to grab a piece of sausage and she slapped his hand away. "Now, your makeshift birthday brunch is ready. Go put clothing on and come eat."

"As you said, this is my birthday brunch, what is more appropriate attire than my birthday suit?"

"Did you hear that question as it left your lips? Or do your thoughts not pass by your brain before they exit your lips anymore?"

"I did and am ashamed at the level of 'bad dad jokes' it attained."

Once he was properly clothed in sweatpants and a t-shirt with his hair pulled back from his face, he joined her at the kitchen island, digging into his plate. "Lynne, in your next chapter of life, when you decide that using your brain power for numbers isn't for you anymore, can you please open a restaurant. This shit is so fucking good."

"Yeah, sure. As long as you will be bank-rolling me with your high-falutin doctor salary, I'm all for it. Though I'd have to work on a more focused menu. I tend to cook all over the palate-spectrum. We'd never be able to market it."

"Maybe you ask your mom for some pointers. She seems to have a focus with her catering business and all."

"This could possibly work, but knowing me and my luck I would probably devote every living second of my time and energy into it and slowly turn myself into an egotistical chef that gets arrested for impaling my sous chef with a filleting knife when they don't properly plate a crostini or something. That is not an extremely appealing thought. I think I'll stick to making myself dinner and special occasion meals for my friends and loved ones. And leave the professional aspect of the kitchen to my mother and Elisa."

"That can work too. As long as I stay on that list for eternity. Deal?"

She smirked at his request, but obliged him all the same. "Deal."

Placing his empty plate on the table, he cleared his throat and a confused look appeared on his face. "So umm, why were we having a cuddle session in my bed this morning? Not that I'm complaining or anything, you are quite squishy.  But wasn't the original plan for you to come back this morning and we head out to brunch and ice cream before our annual WW2 and horror movie fest?" He asked, grabbing the cup of coffee she made him and taking a long sip.

Rolling her eyes, she passed him a napkin and indicated that he needed to wipe the crumbs off his face. "That was shot to shit for two reasons. One, we stayed out till 3 in the morning and in your drunken stupor you mistook me for a life-sized teddy bear, so I never made it home. And two, we didn't wake up until after 12:15pm. So there was no way we were gonna make it uptown for our 1pm brunch reservation."

"How did I mistake you for a teddy bear?" He took the napkin from her and wiped at the corners of his mouth.

"I was tucking you in for the night, making sure you wouldn't choke on your own vomit like a good best friend, and you pulled me into your chest like a four-year-old with his favorite stuffed animal. Against your super-drunk strength, I couldn't compete and then all attempts to wake you were futile, so I just counted the dots on your ceiling until I fell asleep. I didn't even get to turn off the lights. I am now regretting that I didn't try harder. If your drool stains don't come out, you're buying me a new dress." She sipped deeply from her mug of green tea, closing her eyes and sighing in satisfaction.