Perhaps I should start by bringing him breakfast in bed. Besides, José may still be here.
I find José at the counter, eating a bowl of cereal. I can’t help but flush when I see him. He knows I’ve spent the night with Christian. Why do I suddenly feel so shy? It’s not as if I’m naked or anything. I’m wearing my silk floor-length wrap.
“Morning, José,” I smile, brazening it out.
“Hey, Ana!” His face lights up, genuinely pleased to see me. There’s no hint of teasing or salacious contempt in his expression.
“Sleep well?” I ask.
“Sure. Some view from up here.”
“Yeah. It’s pretty special.” Like the owner of this apartment. “Want a real man’s breakfast?” I tease.
“Love some.”
“It’s Christian’s birthday today—I’m making him breakfast in bed.”
“He awake?”
“No, I think he’s fried from yesterday.” I quickly glance away from him and head to the fridge so he can’t see my blush. Jeez, it’s only José. When I take the eggs and bacon out of the fridge, José is grinning at me.
“You really like him, don’t you?”
I purse my lips. “I love him, José.”
His eyes widen momentarily then he grins. “What’s not to love?” he asks gesturing round the great room.
I scowl at him. “Gee, thanks!”
“Hey, Ana, just kidding.”
Hmm . . . will I always have this leveled at me? That I’m marrying Christian for his money?
“Seriously, I’m kidding. You’ve never been that kind of girl.”
“Omelet good for you?” I ask, changing the subject. I don’t want to argue.
“Sure.”
“And me,” Christian says as he saunters into the great room. Holy fuck, he’s wearing only pajama bottoms that hang in that totally hot way off his hips—Jeez!
“José.” He nods.
“Christian.” José returns his nod solemnly.
Christian turns to me and smirks as I stare. He’s done this on purpose. I narrow my eyes at him, desperately trying to recover my equilibrium, and Christian’s expression alters subtly. He knows that I know what he’s up to, and he doesn’t care.
“I was going to bring you breakfast in bed.”
Swaggering over, he wraps his arm around me, tilts my chin up, and plants a loud wet kiss on my lips. Very unFifty!
“Good morning, Anastasia,” he says. I want to scowl at him and tell him to behave—but it’s his birthday. I flush. Why is he so territorial?
“Good morning, Christian. Happy birthday.” I give him a smile, and he smirks at me.
“I’m looking forward to my other present,” he says and that’s it. I flush the color of the Red Room of Pain and glance nervously at José, who looks like he’s swallowed something unpleasant. I turn away and start preparing the food.
“So what are your plans today, José?” Christian asks, seemingly casual as he sits down on a barstool.
“I’m heading up to see my dad and Ray, Ana’s dad.”
Christian frowns.
“They know each other?”
“Yeah, they were in the army together. They lost contact until Ana and I were in college together. It’s kinda cute. They’re best buds now. We’re going on a fishing trip.”
“Fishing?” Christian is genuinely interested.
“Yeah—some great catches in these coastal waters. The steelheads can grow way big.”
“True. My brother Elliot and I landed a thirty-four pound steelhead once.”
They’re talking fishing? What is it about fishing? I have never understood it.
“Thirty-four pounds? Not bad. Ana’s father though, he holds the record. A forty-three pounder.”
“You’re kidding! He never said.”
“Happy birthday, by the way.”
“Thanks. So, where do you like to fish?”
I zone out. This I do not need to know. But at the same time I’m relieved. See, Christian? José’s not so bad.
By the time José makes to leave, both of them are much more relaxed with each other. Christian quickly changes into T-shirt and jeans and barefoot he accompanies José and me to the foyer.
“Thanks for letting me crash here,” José says to Christian as they shake hands.
“Anytime,” Christian smiles.
José hugs me quickly. “Stay safe, Ana.”
“Sure. Great to see you. Next time we’ll have a proper evening out.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” He waves at us from inside the elevator, and then he’s gone.
“See, he’s not so bad.”
“He still wants into your panties, Ana. But can’t say I blame him.”
“Christian, that’s not true!”
“You have no idea, do you?” He smirks down at me. “He wants you. Big time. ”
I frown. “Christian, he’s just a friend, a good friend.” And I’m suddenly aware that I sound like Christian when he’s talking about Mrs. Robinson. The thought is unsettling.
Christian holds up his hands in a placating gesture.