Iwake up to the smell of cinnamon rolls and bacon. If I hadn’t already known I wasn’t at my house, that would have been a dead giveaway. I stretch as I tumble out of bed, and I notice that Elaine’s side is cold.
I pad out to the kitchen in search of coffee. I’d bet my limited-edition model of the Millenium Falcon that Lainie has a pot of fresh coffee brewed and ready to go. She’s standing at the sink—the same place I seduced her days ago. Her hair is down and messy, she’s wearing tiny shorts and a tank top and fuzzy socks, and she’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
I walk up behind her, and she turns her head at the sound of my footsteps. Resting my chin on the top of her head and my arms around her waist, I breathe in the scent of her. “Good morning.” My voice is raspy and sleepy, and I really just want to drag her back to bed, but, like I suspected, she’s made breakfast, and if it tastes half as good as it smells, I’m a lucky guy.
“Mmmm.” She cuddles into me. “You’re warm, and I’m freezing. I think you need to stay wrapped around me all day.”
“That sounds like a plan. But, Lain, you’re freezing because you’re basically naked. I’m not complaining, just saying.” My hands go up in mock surrender.
She shrugs, feigning innocence. “I get hot when I sleep. And I should go get a sweatshirt or something, but who needs a hoodie when you’ve got a hot boyfriend?”
“That is sound logic. But if I must keep my arms around you all day—again, not complaining—you’re going to have to feed me. Are those cinnamon rolls I smell?”
She steps free of my hold and beams. “Yep. With cream cheese frosting. And they’re still warm. Have a seat and I’ll make you a plate.”
Ignoring her directive, I duck into the bedroom and grab a blanket, then take a seat on the bench at the table, just as she places a cup of coffee and a heaping plate of food in front of me. “Snuggle in. I brought you a blanket to keep you warm while I shove food in my face. I’m starving.”
“You did work up an appetite last night.” She grins devilishly at me, and I wonder, not for the first time, how I got so damn lucky. I also curse myself for waiting so long to approach her. But I guess the timing wasn’t right before now. I try to answer back with a quip of my own, but once I take a bite, speech is beyond my capabilities. These cinnamon rolls are incredible. Seriously. “Holy hell, these are amazing,” I tell her as I lick the icing from my fingers.
“Yeah?” Her voice is hopeful, as if she’s surprised at my praise.
“Yeah. Like quit-your-job-tomorrow-and open-a bakery-good.”
“Ha. I’m glad you like them. And I do love to bake, but copyediting is kinda my thing.”
“No problem. We’ll set up your bakery in one of those left-for-dead fast food restaurants. Isn’t there a defunct Arby’s on Cornwall? We’ll buy that and while I dish up cinnamon buns, you can sit at the drive-thru window and answer grammar questions. It’s a win-win.”
She laughs, and I feel like a king. “Simon Walker, you’re a genius.”
“That’s what they told my mom when I was four.”
A strange look shadows her face, and for a minute, I think she’s going to make a comment about how she was in high school when I was four. And while that’s probably true, I’m over this age thing. Instead, her gaze turns thoughtful, and she asks, “What’s it like being smarter than everybody? Is it weird? I don’t mean that in a bad way, I guess I just wonder if you spend your life in a constant state of eye-rolling at the stupidity of the masses?”
This woman. She slays me. And, of course, I don’t spend my days rolling my eyes at people, well, okay, not all of my days.
I’ve waited too long to answer and embarrassment colors her cheeks. “Gah! I didn’t mean that. I mean, I did, but it came out wrong, and now you think I think you’re some kind of—”
“Elaine. Chill.”
She takes a sip of her coffee and smiles sheepishly. “Chilling.”
“So, you’re right. Not about the stupidity of the masses,” I laugh. “But, yeah, it’s a little weird, I guess. I’ve just always known I was different, you know? Not smarter, necessarily, but different. I mean, I graduated high school at fifteen. Kind of hard not to stand out. My voice had barely changed and half the guys in my senior class had beards. So, yeah, I was definitely an outlier as far as school goes. But at home? Not so much. The Walkers are all overachievers. Katie, she’s the oldest, is good at everything.”
“Everything?” I scoff. “Could you be a little more specific?”
“Seriously. That’s her super power. She’s just good at stuff. Like, she’ll do something one time and ace it. She went to a friend’s birthday party when she was, like, ten. And it was an ice-skating party. She’d never done it before in her life, but she took right to it. Before long, she was winning medals. She went to the Jr. Olympics.”
“Wow. So any other prodigies?”
“Here’s the rundown: Katie’s good at everything, especially being bitchy and judgemental. But we love her anyway. Meg and Charlie are next. They’re twins, but you wouldn’t know it. They look nothing alike and are polar opposites. They both have genius IQs like I do. Meg is in law school and is super driven. She’s intense, but in a good way. Charlie is so smart it’s scary, but she has no drive. Or maybe it’s more accurate to say that she’s motivated by wandering. She moved to Colorado a few years ago and comes back, maybe, once a year. She loves us all, but we’re easier to take in small doses. She ran a dance studio for awhile, and she was a bartender, too. I think she’s teaching yoga now, but only Meg ever knows exactly what Charlie is up to.”
“And then there’s Betsy, right? She’s married to Duncan, right?”
“Yep. And she doesn’t have the genius label that Charlie and Meg and I do, but she’s probably smarter than all of us put together. She’s so good at reading and understanding people. She’s a child psychologist. Finished college in three years, then grad school. She runs a private practice with a partner. So, yeah. Being exceptional is pretty much the norm at my house.”
“I’m a little biased, but I have trouble believing anyone could be smarter than you. The way you solve problems and figure things out with such clarity? I admire that.”
And there it is, folks. She gets me. And she doesn’t want to change me or polish me or make me hide my signed “Empire Strikes Back” movie poster.
