Page 13 of Weather the Storm
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to keep her locked away like some princess in a tower; I’ve just grown used to spending our days together, bingeing on Netflix and whatnot, but I can see she’s antsy to resume her day-to-day activities. Something tells me she’s not used to having the freedom of coming and going as she pleases, which is exactly why I plan on taking her car shopping this weekend—which means I need to text Seraphine to make sure she blocks out Magnolia’s schedule at the salon so she can leave a little early.
Simon: Hey, any way you can make sure Magnolia gets off around 4 on Friday?
I wait impatiently for the little bubbles to pop up, indicating that she’s replying to my message.
Seraphine: You’re lucky I’m an early riser, Simon. Don’t you know it’s rude to text people this early?
Simon: Loud and clear, won’t happen again. But, about Friday…
Seraphine: You know I can make it happen, but why?
I swear, these women are so damn nosy.
Simon: Want to surprise her and take her car shopping.
Seraphine: Doesn’t she need driving lessons first?
Simon: Figured I’d teach her in the car she’ll actually be driving.
Seraphine: Makes sense. I’ll mark off her time.
I’ve just placed my phone back on the wireless charging dock when it pings again with another incoming text.
Seraphine: Oh, and, Simon…you’re a good man.
I smile at her message but don’t reply. I’ve got to get ready if I’m going to make it to work on time, and strangely enough, I’ve missed the little punk-ass freshmen I teach.
Twenty minutes later, I step out of my bedroom and into the hallway, the scent of bacon instantly filling my nostrils. Following it, I find Magnolia in the kitchen, clad in an oversized sleep shirt and tall, fuzzy socks.
“What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” I ask, the words slipping past my lips before I can think them through.
Magnolia turns from the stove to face me, a pretty blush coloring her cheeks. “Just some bacon and eggs. Thought you’d need a good breakfast to start your day.”
“Well, thank you very much, Goldilocks. A good breakfast sounds some kind of nice.” I plant myself in my chair at the table as she dishes up two plates of eggs and bacon before setting them on the table and sliding into the seat across from me.
Wordlessly, I dig in, savoring the taste of the fluffy, buttery scrambled eggs. “This is amazing,” I say between bites, and she preens at my words.
“Thank you. The trick is adding a pat of butter to the eggs just before they finish cooking.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, rising to take my plate to the sink. A second or two later, Magnolia follows suit, standing so close to me that I can feel the warmth of her skin. I load my plate into the dishwasher and make room for her at the sink. “You know you don’t have to cook for me, right?”
“Oh…oh, yeah, sorry.” Magnolia drops her gaze from mine and tries to busy herself with rinsing her plate, but no amount of scrubbing can hide her crestfallen look.
“Hey,” I whisper, tipping her chin up so she’s looking at me. “Hey, you misunderstood. I don’t mean that your cooking isn’t good, or that I don’t appreciate you doing it, or even that I want you to stop. All I meant was, don’t feel like youhaveto do it.” Reaching past her, I shut off the faucet and take her wet, soapy hands in mine. “You hear me, Goldilocks?”
“Yeah, I hear you.”
“Good. Now, you have a good first day back at the salon, and I’ll see you this evenin’.” Instinctually, I lean down and press my lips to her forehead, eliciting a small gasp from Magnolia as if we’re both struck by the feeling of her skin under my own.
“Y-you too,” she replies breathlessly, causing me to smile so wide my cheeks ache.
§
Pulling into my designated spot in the faculty parking lot, I head toward the school with a spring in my step. There’s just something about Magnolia that has me flying high.
I head straight to my classroom, bypassing the teacher’s lounge since I spent a little extra time at home enjoying breakfast, as well as enjoying my time with the chef. It feels like an eternity since I stepped foot in my classroom, but I’m pleased to see that the sub has left it in the same condition it was in when she started last Monday.
I situate myself in my desk chair and flip through the notes the substitute left for me before pulling out my lesson plan and grade book. Thankfully, my students were all on their best behavior—well, at least the majority of them.
