Chapter 42
The rich aroma of coffee drifts through the air, waking me from my sleep. The clinking of dishes echoes from the kitchen, making my eyes snap open as I remember I’m still at Rya and Ezra’s. I sit up and spot Ezra, already dressed for work, cooking something on the stove.
I grab my phone and stare at the empty screen.
My chest tightens. The reality sets in that Zayn doesn’t care.
He used to be the one who would have lost his mind if I didn’t come home or tell him where I was.
It’s like I don’t even exist to him anymore.
I could be lying in a ditch somewhere, and he wouldn’t bat an eye.
The thought sends a wave of sadness crashing over me as I toss my phone aside and sink deeper into the couch.
“Hey, you’re awake.”
I look over at Ezra with a spatula in his hand, staring over at me with softness in his eyes.
“Yeah,” I say, standing up and stretching my body, feeling rested. At least I got some rest here. Usually when I sleep, I wake up through the night, but I don’t remember waking up once after seeing Ezra going to bed.
I walk over to the kitchen. “What are you making?”
“Some breakfast for you guys before I head into work,” he says, stirring the scrambled eggs.
I sit on the edge of the stool, watching him. It baffles me that he is cooking for us. I mean, Rya doesn’t work; I would think he would want her to cook for him. Am I wrong to think that way? Has my marriage made me think this way?
He works to provide for them and still finds the energy to wake up and make breakfast while his wife sleeps. He’s so thoughtful. It’s moments like these that make me question my own marriage because I can’t even get Zayn to warm me up something in the damn microwave.
“Did you wake up early to make us breakfast?” I ask, still baffled.
He shrugs. “I was up,” he says while he puts the cooked eggs on three separate plates. “I’m sure Zayn does the same for you,” he says, grabbing one of the plates and setting it down in front of me.
I sit there in silence, not knowing what to say because he actually wouldn’t.
I don’t know if it’s because he doesn’t care to do something thoughtful like that or what.
He’s thoughtful in other ways. Sometimes I wonder if those moments are thoughtful or if he just does it because it benefits him too.
Ez lifts his gaze to meet mine. Heat rushes to my cheeks as embarrassment floods through me.
He tilts his head and asks. “Would he not?”
I avoid his gaze and shrug.
“He doesn’t cook for you?” he asks, surprised.
“If he BBQs.”
Ezra runs a hand through his hair as if this is something new that he learned about his best friend.
“He thinks it’s a woman’s job to do all the cooking,” I blurt out.
“I don’t want to get in the middle of you two, but that’s not right of him to think that way. You both work and contribute financially; he should help with the household.”
“Does Rya help you?” I ask, a little defensive. I know he only cares, but being put on the spot, especially right now, hits harder than I expected.
Silence fills the room. I look up at him and catch his gaze. He looks as if he is questioning his own marriage.
“Rya helps in her own way,” he says, taking a drink of his coffee.
I nod, meeting his gaze. I’m not going to get in the middle of their marriage.
I know he carries most of the load. Especially right now.
Sometimes I feel as if Rya walks all over him because he’s such a nice guy.
But who am I to think or say something like that about my best friend’s marriage? Look how mines going.
I clear my throat. “Is there more coffee?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Oh yeah. Sorry, I forgot to get you a cup.” He grabs a mug out of the cupboard.
“That’s okay. I can get it.” Before I can reach for the coffee, he’s already pouring me some in a mug.
“What are you two doing up so early?” I hear in the background.
Both Ezra and I turn in surprise as Rya comes walking in with half her boob popping out of her spaghetti strap nightgown.
“Rya, your...” he says and taps his own chest.
She looks down at herself. “Oh,” she says with a giggle, adjusting her strap. “Oops.” She grabs a stool next to me and sits down, looking over at the breakfast Ezra made. But instead of saying anything about it, she looks at it as if it’s nothing.
“Ezra cooked for us,” I say.
She nods, sliding one of the plates with eggs, bacon, and toast closer to her.
I look at Ez as he looks at Rya, poking at her food. The look on his face is something I can’t read. Is he mad or hurt that his own wife isn’t that appreciative?
“That was nice of your husband,” I say, emphasizing husband . “That he woke up early before work to cook for us,” I say, feeling defensive for Ez.
“Oh yeah. He always does.”
My mouth falls open, and my eyes widen in disbelief. How could she be so blind to everything he does for her? None of it seems to matter to her. She doesn’t appreciate a damn thing.
“Well, I’m going to head out,” Ez says, walking around the counter to Rya and placing a kiss on her lips.
“Okay, I’ll see you later,” she says with her mouth half-full.
“I’ll see you, Vi.” He looks over at me before heading out the door.
I glance over at Rya as she scrolls through her phone, her face blank.
When did she become so ungrateful? I remember when she first started dating Ezra, how excited she was every time he planned a date for them or did something nice for her out of the blue.
Now, it looks like she takes him for granted.
It hurts to see the change in her, especially knowing how hard Ezra tries to make her happy.
Does she even notice anymore or is she too caught up in her own world to care?
“Do you not appreciate Ezra cooking for you?” I blurt out because this friend of mine is pissing me off right now. Something I wish Zay would do for me, and she takes it for granted.
“Yeah,” she says, looking up at me. “He does it all the time, so it’s nothing to be excited about.”
I curl my lips, biting down. “You could at least appreciate it.”
Her brows are furrowed. “I do.”
“It doesn’t look like it.”
“What do you want me to do? Jump for joy every time he cooks for me?”
Oh God, she’s missing the whole damn point, and I don’t want to sit here and start drama with someone else in my life. It’s the last thing I need. I drop the subject and continue eating my breakfast. All this morning has done is make me heated.
“So, what are we doing today?”
“Well, I have to work,” I say.
“Oh, come on, you can miss one day. Besides, it’s your own business.”
“Yeah, that’s not how it works.”
She scoffs. “Then what’s the point of owning your own business?”
I’m caught off guard by how she blows everything off. She has no responsibilities in her life, and she acts as if no one else should. I question whether she’s always been this way. Have I been blinded by how truly spoiled and conceited she is?
I get up from my seat and walk my plate over to the sink. “I have to get going.”
She huffs loudly. “Really?” she snaps. “We aren’t going to do anything?”
“I have work to do.”
“Fine.”
“Don’t you have work?” I ask, because I don’t think she knows I know she lost her job. I don’t even think she’s been looking for another one.
Her body tenses up, and she looks down at her plate. “Yeah,” she mumbles.
I’m still shocked she hasn’t said anything to me about losing her job. We’ve been best friends for years, and she used to tell me everything. Is she still ashamed? Or does she think I’ll judge her? My mind races, but honestly, I can’t worry about it with everything going on in my life.