Chapter 14 Letty
LETTY
Ihave the Monday blues, terribly, more than my usual dose, too. It’s probably due to the man walking beside me. Never in my life could I imagine being so content, blissfully tired, completely taken care of, and sleeping deeper than I have since Mom was alive.
I’m also dragging ass and still have to stop at my apartment, change into work clothes, head to Ophelia’s, and then get a start on my day.
The good news is, I have a full belly from the breakfast I whipped up for us.
Matthew made coffee, while I handled the eggs, sausage, and biscuits.
I suppose if there were more time, I would have made the biscuits from scratch.
There’s nothing better than fluffy layered dough with butter melted in between each layer.
Now, I’m in a borrowed shirt and boxer briefs, feeling like I’m on the walk of shame that most girls my age do while in college.
Except, well, I’ll be going to work and seeing if I can pick up an extra day for the next month or so to make up for the added expense from yesterday.
I’m still not thrilled with how that all went down, but I’m going to put it in the back of my mind and look toward the future instead.
“You’re deep in thought,” Matthew says with his hand in mine.
He told me to leave the clothes I wore yesterday at his place, and he’d wash them with his clothes.
I laughed because chances are it would be me who does the laundry.
He shrugged his shoulders, more or less agreeing with me.
At least this way, it’ll help out when I do my chores at the apartment.
“Mornings aren’t my favorite.” I’ve been quiet since I woke up. It’s my usual, I’m not very conversation-worthy till about mid-morning. Matthew might have misjudged being around me when waking up.
“Yeah, kitten, I can tell, but you’re quieter now than you were earlier.
Are you having any regrets?” I stop midstride, he does the same, and while we’re in the middle of the parking garage, at least nobody else is here, specifically his friend who lives on the other side of the building.
In fact, I don’t see any other vehicles besides ours.
“Matthew, look at me.” He’s at war with himself.
We haven’t really touched on the topic of our age difference and my lack of sexual experience.
Which is slowly diminishing with as much as we’ve done without, you know, his whole penis inside of me, at least. There’s been plenty of other stuff, though, and riding his face and his cock, well, it's kind of up there as top tier.
This morning was a million times better, at least for me.
Matthew kissed me awake, starting at my neck, pulling my shirt, well, really his shirt out of the way, then sliding down the length of my body, where he proceeded to have me for breakfast. Those were his words, and when I once again tried to return the favor, the blaring of the alarm alerted us that time was of the essence.
Truthfully, I think Matthew’s scared of what I’ll be capable of once my mouth is on his cock.
“I’m looking, Letty, believe me. I can’t stop looking.” The hunger in his tone is palpable.
“Well, the same goes for you. But back to the matter at hand, absolutely nothing that we’ve will I ever regret.
I’m a terrible morning person, and I’d have much rather called in and stayed in bed with you all day.
Sadly, you have court, I have a job, that bad time off is a minimum, and I need to replenish what I spent yesterday.
” I press my finger to his lips, quieting him without words.
“No, don’t offer. I won’t take it. You’ve been there for me in a time of need when I wouldn’t have had anybody.
You have done so much in the short amount of time we’ve been together, more than anyone else ever has.
” Sure, I’ve been working for Ophelia for a while now, and we’ve both kind of danced around each other, one or the other, lightly flirty, sharing coy glances and the like.
This has been way more. This feels a lot like love.
“I won’t offer this time. My help is there, whenever or wherever you need it, monetary or not.
I’m really fucking glad you’re not having any regrets.
” His hand slides up the outer edge of my arm until it’s at my neck.
His thumb is probably supposed to soothe my rapidly beating heart rate but does the exact opposite.
“Come on, kitten. If you don’t get out of here, we won’t make it to work. ”
“Alright,” I reply as he drops a quick kiss to my lips, and damn him for being right.
We finish walking toward my car. Matthew has my keys, and he unlocks it once we’re near, moving to the door to open it for me. I toss my bag in the passenger seat, slide in the driver’s side, and Matthew hands me the keys.
“There. You won’t have to put the code in anymore.” He ducks his head, puts a remote that’s similar to a garage door opener on my visor, and then proceeds to make out with me until we’re both breathless. My hands end up in his hair, and his end up on my body.
My day goes from good to better. The houses on my schedule today aren’t of the deep clean variety.
Each of them has me in and out within the allotted time, making my life easier.
It also helped that this morning, when Matthew and I finally parted ways, I didn’t hit any traffic, got to the apartment only to snag upfront parking, hoofed it up the stairs, and changed in record time.
Mischa and Liv were still in their bedrooms. I gave them a quick hello through their closed doors, and then I left.
I’d texted them last night, giving them the heads-up that I wouldn’t be home.
The text messages went crazy for a period of time and only settled after I sent back the Cliff Notes version.
I still need to come clean to Matthew about my past, though there haven’t been any weird feelings lately. But I’d much rather be honest, have no lies of omission between us, and allow him to cut and run or stay and possibly deal with the shit storm of my stepfather and the goon squad.
I’m waiting for the laundry to turn off in the dryer at the house I’m cleaning when a text message alert pings and pauses my audiobook.
I’m on book two of the series with the Scottish narrator, fully enjoying the dialogue while getting through my workday.
I move to the device and glance down at the screen.
A giddiness takes hold of me, and when a giggle slips from my mouth, I slap my hand over the offending noise. Then I become an even stranger person, looking around the area to make sure nobody heard me, which is ridiculous, since I’m here by myself.
Matthew: What’s a guy gotta do to get his woman to come back to his place after work today?
Me: That depends. What time are you actually going to be home?
Matthew is a workaholic, more so than I am, and even on the rare days he does leave the office early, he’ll bring his work home with him.
Matthew: I have court at 4. Depending on how long that goes, I should be home before 6.
Me: Wow, who are you? Don’t you usually stay at the office burning the midnight oil?
Matthew: I’ve got a reason to be home now, as long as you’re there, and this time, I’m picking up dinner. You’re not cooking after being on your feet all day.
I smile, the buzzer goes off on the dryer, and while I need to respond to Matthew, I also need to pull a few things out before they wrinkle. I glance from my task of shaking out the long-sleeve dress shirts when another ping alerts me to a text.
Matthew: Kitten, you wouldn’t leave me on read, would you?
Matthew: Fine, if you insist on cooking, at least tell me what you’d like me to pick up.
I’d really love to respond to his message right away, and I could use voice-to-text if the damn thing didn’t butcher my words every single time.
It’s not the duck versus fuck, either. Oh no, it’s a does versus doesn’t, he versus she, and think versus thing.
The wrong context can screw it all up, misconstruing words, making me sound like a damn idiot.
I’ve done that one too many times to Ophelia.
While she’s my boss, she’s also one of those people who don’t judge and make similar errors themselves.
It’s now a running joke between the two of us to see which one can butcher our texts up more than the other.
I hang the last of the shirts, this washer-slash-dryer the Emanuels own is the cat’s meow.
There’s a cycle similar to that of a dry cleaner for the washing part, and for the drying, it has a steamer setting, making it so you don’t have to iron.
Thank fucking god. The one part of this job I loathe is when a paying customer expects everything ironed.
And there are some who do, down to their bed sheets and underwear.
Me: Sorry, I’ll be home around 5, grab a quick shower, and then I can head to your place. As for dinner, I’m good either way.
Matthew: Don’t be sorry. I know you’re working, unlike me, who can’t seem to focus on a damn thing except on my kitten. As for dinner, I’ll pick something up and bring it home. Anything in particular you’d like?
Me: I’m not picky. Whatever you choose is fine with me.
Matthew: Perfect. There’s a new Mediterranean place that opened near my office. I’ll get a variety, and we’ll dig in.
Me: That sounds amazing. On the balcony, please?
Matthew: If that’s what my kitten wants, that’s what my kitten will get. Have a good rest of your day. See you this evening.
Me: You too <3
Our conversation concludes, and I get back to finishing this house and have one more left before I head back to the shop. Then I’m going to do exactly what I told Matthew. Only I’m going to pack a bag, just in case.