Page 46 of Wisteria and Cloves
I nodded, feeling heat creep into my cheeks at yet another gap in my basic adult experiences. "My mother said caffeine was too stimulating for an Omega. That it would make me... inappropriate."
Something dark flickered across Nicolaus's features before he schooled his expression back to neutral. "Would you like to try some? I can make it mild—more cream than coffee to start."
The offer felt like another small rebellion, another choice I could make for myself. "I'd like that," I said softly.
He moved with practiced efficiency, preparing a second mug with what looked like more cream and sugar than coffee. The rich aroma filled the kitchen as he worked, earthy and complex in a way that made my mouth water unexpectedly. He handed me the mug, his fingers brushing mine briefly in the exchange.
"Small sips at first," he advised, settling against the counter with his own cup—black, I noticed, no additions to soften the intensity. "Coffee can be overwhelming if you're not used to it."
I lifted the mug to my lips, inhaling the fragrant steam before taking a tentative taste. The flavor was unlike anything I'd experienced—bitter with a touch of sweet from the sugar and cream.
"What do you think?" Nicolaus asked, watching my reaction with that analytical attention I was beginning to appreciate.
“Its….interesting.” I said, as I took another sip. I didn’t know if I liked it or not though.
Nicolaus laughed, “It takes some time to get used too. I can make you tea if you like.”
I shook my head, “Its fine. It isn’t bad…justodd.”
Nicolaus nodded, seeming pleased by my honesty. "Most people develop a taste for it gradually. Julian nearly spat out his first cup—claimed it tasted like burnt water."
I smiled at the mental image, taking another small sip. The warmth spread through my chest, though I wasn't sure if it was from the drink or the comfortable intimacy of sharing this quiet morning moment. "What time do you usually wake up?"
"Four-thirty," he replied matter-of-factly. "The pool opens at five-fifteen, and I prefer to have the lanes to myself for the first hour."
"Every day?" The dedication seemed staggering.
"Six days a week. Rest is as important as training." He studied me over the rim of his mug. "What about you? Were your early mornings by choice or requirement?"
I considered the question for a moment, yes I was made to be awake and ready by a certain time, but I always woke up before the maids or my mother did, “I tend to wake up early on my own.”
"But the structure around it was imposed," Nicolaus concluded, his analytical mind fitting pieces together. "The schedule, the expectations of how to spend that time."
I nodded, warming my hands around the mug. "My mother insisted that 'proper' Omegas rise early to prepare themselves. Hair, makeup, appropriate attire—all had to be perfect before breakfast."
"Ah yes, because heaven forbid anyone see you as a human being rather than a display piece," Nicolaus said dryly, hisvoice carrying that subtle edge I was beginning to recognize as protective anger.
His bluntness made me smile despite the subject matter. "Exactly. My father was always at the breakfast table by seven-thirty, and I was expected to be 'presentable' by then." I paused, taking another sip of coffee. "Though he rarely looked up from his newspaper."
Nicolaus let out a sigh, shaking his head. "Your father's loss," Nicolaus said simply. "I find morning conversations with you quite enlightening."
His casual compliment caught me off guard, warming me more effectively than the coffee. "Thank you," I managed, then gestured to his athletic wear. "Do you swim competitively year-round?"
"I do. The Olympic trials are in eight months." He stated this matter-of-factly, without bravado or false modesty. "My training intensifies as we get closer.”
"The Olympics?" I couldn't hide my surprise. "I knew you were athletes, but I didn't realize..."
"We don't advertise it much," Nicolaus said, setting his empty mug in the sink. "Julian's been to three Games, Miles to two. Christopher's hoping to qualify this cycle, same as me."
I tried to process this information, suddenly aware of just how accomplished these men were compared to me.
"That's... incredible," I said, feeling suddenly small and inadequate. What could I possibly offer to men who competed at the highest levels of their sports? Men who were not only successful athletes but also ran businesses, maintained careers, and still found time to bake homemade tarts and tend gardens?
Nicolaus tilted his head slightly, studying me with that penetrating gaze that seemed to read thoughts. "Your scent changed just now. What are you thinking?"
I blinked, surprised by his directness. "I... it's nothing. Just realizing how accomplished you all are."
"And comparing yourself unfavorably," he concluded, not unkindly. "Measuring your worth against external achievements."
