I woke up to the delightful aroma of sausage and French toast filling the air. The anticipation of a delicious breakfast made my stomach rumble with hunger after our rather lengthy workout last night into the wee hours of this morning.

We never reached the bedroom last night. After he followed me into the kitchen, assuming he was upset about my confession of love and wanted to belittle me for harboring such feelings after all these years. But instead of chiding me, he made love to me on the kitchen table. And later as I tried to gather my clothes and head to bed, he pulled me back into the living room for another round.

I rolled over and stretched, still wrapped snugly in the blanket that my father’s mother had crocheted for a Christmas decoration but had become a staple in the living room since her passing, my father unwilling to pack it away with the rest of the decorations the year she died.

I collected the scattered cushions that had functioned as our makeshift mattress and flung them back onto the couch, while the smaller ones found their way back onto the chairs. This birthday, without a doubt, has been the happiest, if not the most peculiar, one I have ever experienced. I took a moment to simply sit and contemplate the start of a new day taking a few deep breaths with my eyes closed. I knew this day would be filled with countless uncertainties, yet I was strangely ready to confront them. I felt liberated and matured. I might have only been 18 for a few hours but I felt I had aged in wisdom by tenfold.

From the sun’s position in the room, it seemed like it was already late afternoon. However, time was irrelevant at the moment as the delicious aroma of the food and the contentment from our all-nighter overshadowed any sense of duty. I longed to savor this peculiar sense of domestic happiness with Caleb.

During the summer we spent together, we never had the chance to engage in any typical couple activities because we were preoccupied with keeping our relationship a secret from our friends and family.

After I tidied up the room, I found my bra and underwear and put them down the shoot in the foyer half bath. I entered the kitchen by the swing hallway door, the blanket tightly wrapped around my body. Sure he had seen me and tasted just about every inch of my body last night but I was too self-conscious to just walk around unclothed now that my liquid courage was out of my system.

My mother had recently renovated the kitchen and it was now a mixture of old and new. The appliances were shiny and modern, the paint fresh and bright. But the original cabinets, crafted by my great-great grandfather, stood as a reminder of the past. Despite her efforts, the room still held onto its old-world farmhouse charm.

Dark textures of red and green, with pictures of chicken and sunflower hand towels, lined the walls and handles within the room. And of course, there was a large farmhouse table that added to the rustic feel.

The new black and white checkered flooring she had installed gave a nod to a fifties diner and just didn’t seem to fit with the rest of the decor. But the tile was her final touch before what she called, “applying the frosting on the room” and transforming it into her own personal space, free from the ghosts of the past. Unfortunately, she never got the chance to finish the updates before we were forced to leave. And now, the room seemed at war with itself, imbalanced and incomplete.

Caleb had his back to the door, shirt and shoeless looking sexy in the afternoon light that streamed through the window and lit up his creamy skin and highlighted his tattoos. He looked as though he had showered and put on a clean pair of sleeping pants from my father’s old box of clothes.

He skillfully flipped the final piece of French toast, the aroma of butter and cinnamon filling the air as it sizzled in the pan. With a gentle press, he ensured it was perfectly cooked before transferring it onto the awaiting plate.

He had placed the fresh berries I had bought from the farmers market the day before, and was also accompanied by a serving of sausage he must have found in the freezer.

Taking a seat in the chair nearest to the door I had come through, I observed him with curiosity as he meticulously arranged the dish, transforming it into a work of art.

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A smile graced his lips as he caught me watching him, my body curled up in the chair to conceal the fact that I had not bothered to dress before joining him.

Playfully, he strolled across the room, imitating a waiter in a high-end restaurant catering to the elite, no doubt mimicking something from a show he had watched.

With a flourish of his hand, he placed the plate before me and bowed before pouring me a glass of orange juice. It was all so very whimsy. But I tried to smile too broadly and ruin his act.

Settling into the chair beside me, he planted a gentle kiss on my cheek before pouring himself a glass of juice. The table was adorned with a variety of condiments, including syrup, butter, and a canister of powdered sugar. Salt, pepper, and even ketchup were present atop the lazy Susan. Although I did not personally care for ketchup on my eggs, surprisingly he did. Even though he often criticized the processed foods of my world. Ketchup was a love affair he developed that both fascinated and disgusted me. He put it on everything.

I scooped up a generous portion of eggs, shoveling them into my mouth to stifle a full-out belly laugh. It was truly amusing to witness his unexpected culinary skills, considering his privileged status as a wealthy prince. And the way everyone in The Woods doted on him and his brother as if neither could fend for themselves away from the luxuries of their castle and staff.

Yet, here he was, defying expectations and showcasing a hidden talent. It made me ponder the untapped potential that lay within him, beyond the confines of his royal upbringing and his martyr complex.

But I suppose it really was not his fault. In Ella, his society believed that it was a woman’s responsibility to take care of the men. However, we weren’t in Ella anymore and it was so sweet to see him, breaking those societal norms he had grown up with and seemingly enjoying a moment of equality and shared responsibilities.

But after a while, our morning after breakfast was filled with awkward busy talk from him. Sure Caleb was charming, and the food was delectable, but it all seemed rehearsed, as if he had planned every word and action in advance. It cheapened the moment for me.

All I wanted was for him to be his old self and for our company to be familiar. Maybe it was too late for us to go back to what we once had after all. Maybe I should just be content with whatever this was we had going on between us right now. I could be wrong, I often am.

But didn’t he realize we were not naive teenagers anymore and we didn’t need to feel ashamed of what we were doing? I mean, I knew what I was getting myself into when I chose to open my legs for him again. My only regret was that I voiced old feelings, knowing he didn't reciprocate my affection for him.

I loved him then, and unfortunately, I still loved him now. But I also wasn’t a dreamy-eyed girl anymore either, picturing a perfect future with him. I was content with just the physical aspect. After all, I had slept with his brother purely for pleasure, so why not him too?

He leaned in to kiss me, his touch sending shivers down my spine. My body instantly woke up and I was tempted to pursue another go around, despite my body aching and begging for a long hot shower and much-needed rest on a soft bed. But his lips had a persuasive power over me and I found myself letting go of my covering and threading my fingers into his hair to pull him closer.

He was the one to pull away first and handed me back my blanket I was a little disappointed but my body was relieved.

“You should call Dana and see if she’ll come pick you up and the two of you can go shopping and while your out you can get our clothes from her car,” he said standing up leaving me a bit lightheaded as my heart worked to slow its rhythm.

“Oh, and invite her and Kevin over for dinner tonight and we'll have wine later and watch a movie, I’ll make chicken and potatoes stew,” Caleb added as he leaned down and kissed me several more times in between his one-sided conversation. I found myself agreeing, swayed by his kisses. Goddess, his tongue could make me agree to just about anything.

He collected our empty plates and glasses and put them in the sink. He put away all the condiments and even wiped down the table. With a smile, he made his way towards the basement door. Opening it, he took a step into the darkness, most likely to switch over the laundry I had started the night before but hadn’t remembered to dry it until just now.

As he distanced himself from me, my mind cleared out the lusty fog. “Hold on, dinner and wine? I’m not so sure about that,” I hesitated. “It sounds like something old people would ask their friends to do. It just sounds weird. Besides, I don’t think it’s a great idea to be hanging out with them, here by ourselves, they’d probably have a lot of questions we can’t answer.”

“Then invite more people, make it a belated birthday celebration for yourself,” Caleb suggested cheerfully from the doorway.

I was speechless, my mouth hanging open. What was happening, had he lost his mind?

“It’ll be a blast,” Caleb assured me with a grin, taking another step down, and flicking on the light before closing the door behind him.

A sense of unease washed over me, urging me to say something. Caleb’s behavior had become increasingly bizarre, leaving me to question if I had somehow broken him.

“Caleb, wait!” I called out, jumping to my feet to follow him.