I walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, pouring myself a glass of orange juice. “I’m sorry about earlier, Erica. I really didn’t mean to walk in on a moment.” Aiden says, obviously still embarrassed about it.
“Nah, don’t worry about it, Aiden. I’m sure we’ll get our moment: it’s just obviously not meant to be right now.” I say, shrugging it off.
Just as Aiden opened his mouth to talk again, Justin walked in, dropped down onto a kitchen chair and said, “Where’s ma breakfast Wumman?” in his ‘best’ Scottish accent (which, to be honest, was worse than my brother’s Jamaican accent). I sighed and got some bacon and eggs out of the fridge before turning on the oven to preheat to 180 degrees.
He came up behind me, hugged me around the waist saying, “I was joking, I’ll do it myself: you don’t have to, babe”.
“Well, I am now so, tough” I say, putting the bacon on the tray, ready to put in the oven.
“Umm … not happening, Erica. No way am I letting you make me breakfast. You are going to sit down while I make us both breakfast.”
I turned to him and said, “Make me”
He did. He picked me up and sat me down in one of the three kitchen chairs before turning and starting to cook the breakfast. I got up and he turned his face to me, as if he was daring me to test him. I walked over to the cupboard, resigned, and got out the plates and the cutlery before putting them on the side and sitting back down.