12. Lemon #3
When the timer dings, I open the oven and pull out the pan of baked pancakes, slicing them into squares before I set the whole pan aside to cool a little.
“Oh, that looks good. Are those pancakes?” Marcus asks, peering into the pan.
“Yes, cinnamon and blueberry sheet pan pancakes. They’re my favorite, but I haven’t had a chance to make them in a while,” I tell him, remembering the one and only time I cooked them at home.
Avery had lost her mind at the scent of the cinnamon and the mixing bowl and pan being set on the side while I loaded the dishwasher.
In the end, she’d made me feel so uncomfortable that I’d put all the slices into a Tupperware and frozen them without even serving myself a hot portion.
Every time I’d tried to reheat them, she’d complained about the smell for days, so I’d ended up throwing the remaining batch away to avoid the conflict.
“I’ll grab the maple syrup,” Atticus says, running his fingers over my arm as he places a platter of bacon and sausage links on the table.
“Shall I make some eggs?” I ask him.
“That’d be great.”
Nodding, I open the refrigerator and pull out the container of eggs and the carton of milk. Turning back to the counter, I scan the kitchen, wondering where a mixing bowl might be.
“In here,” Marcus says a little sheepishly, opening a cabinet and handing me a large glass mixing bowl.
“Thank you. I’m barely ever allowed in the kitchen at my place. It’s nice to have a chance to cook, but I have no idea where Atticus and Felix keep things,” I tell him.
“Is your roommate a great cook?” Marcus asks.
“No.” I laugh. “But she is…” Pausing, I wonder if I should be talking about her like this. It feels a little cruel, but considering her behavior toward Atticus, I’m not sure I owe her any loyalty at all.
“She’s a fucking nightmare,” Atticus says, answering for me.
“She lost her mind when I went over there with Lemon the other day. She was screaming about me being a criminal and a fucking drug dealer. The girl is crazy, and the sooner we get your stuff out of there, the better. Talking about that, Marcus, did you keep any of the packing boxes from the movers? We’ll need some to start packing up Lemon’s things later. ”
“Atticus,” I whisper-yell. “You can’t just decide I’m moving in with you.”
“My collar is around your neck, and soon there will be a ring on your finger and name change paperwork in the mail. If you think all of that is happening while you’re not sleeping in my bed every night, you’ve got another thing coming,” he growls.
“Yes, I kept most of them. They’re downstairs. I’ll go and grab them for you,” Marcus instantly offers.
“No,” Atticus says, stopping him in his tracks. “You can show us where they are later, but breakfast is almost done, so everything else can wait until after we’ve eaten.”
“Oh, I…” Marcus stutters.
“Marcus, why don’t you grab some plates to help set the table? We’re six for breakfast,” Atticus informs him.
For a moment, I look at the quiet, professionally helpful man and watch the emotion flit across his face, starting with surprise that morphs into fear, then panic, then finally happiness.
I know absolutely nothing about Marcus, other than the fact that he’s Felix’s personal assistant, but it’s clear he has a history and possibly a painful one—the type of history that’s resulted in him expecting to be treated badly and being surprised when he isn’t.
When I’m just about finished with the eggs, Atticus’s cell rings, and he grabs it, bringing it to his ear as he answers. “Hey, are you here?”
There’s a pause as he listens to the person on the end of the line.
“I’ll come and open the gate.” Ending the call, he pushes his cell into his pants pocket, then presses a kiss to my cheek as he heads for the door, opening it and disappearing downstairs, leaving Marcus and me alone.
“Do you know where there’s another dish for the eggs?” I ask.
“Yeah, all the serving bowls are under here,” he says, motioning to a cabinet as he opens it and pulls out a bowl.
“Thank you. Have you been working for Felix for long?” I blurt, unable to resist asking.
“Almost a year,” Marcus says, his voice soft and unsure.
“Do you like it? Is Felix a good boss?”
“Felix is…chaotic, and I’ve spent most of the time I’ve been working for him panicking that I’m not doing enough,” he admits a moment before his eyes go wide, like he can’t believe he just said that.
“I’m sure he’d tell you if you weren’t doing what he needs,” I say, hoping to reassure him.
“Atticus keeps telling me that I’m doing okay, but my last boss…he expected…a lot, and even when I was working twenty-hour days, he didn’t think anything I did was good enough. So even though I’ve been working for Felix for so long, I’m still adjusting.”
“Have you always lived in Montana? Were you working remotely before they moved here?” I ask.
“No. After Felix and Atticus decided to move here, they asked me if I wanted to move too.”
“So you uprooted your whole life to move with them?” I ask, surprised.
He shrugs. “To be honest, my life in New York wasn’t great.
I split up with my boyfriend a while back, and he wasn’t…
nice. Apartments are insanely expensive in the city, so I was basically living in a box.
When I agreed to move here with them, Atticus found me this insanely gorgeous apartment right in town.
They don’t treat me like their employee.
They treat me like…” He pauses, and I fill the gap.
“Family?”
Marcus’s eyes are glassy when he looks at me and nods. “Yeah. Atticus fusses over me, making sure I eat and don’t work too hard. He’s constantly telling me how much they appreciate me.”
“God, he really is just a good person, isn’t he?” I question, already knowing the answer.
Marcus nods. “Yeah, he really is.”
I don’t get a chance to ask any more questions before the door opens and Atticus steps into the loft, followed by two women and then a reluctantly trailing Felix.
“Lemon, Marcus, come meet some friends,” Atticus says. “This is Gaelle and Holly.”
Smiling, I step forward first. “Hi, I’m Lemon.”