Chapter 15
Gage
Celeste and I have been like two ships passing in the night for the past few weeks since the day we took in the abandoned quaker parrot.
She gets up earlier for her morning diner shifts, although I always make sure I see her for at least a few minutes and have a cup of coffee with her before she goes.
It’s become my favorite part of the day, those quiet few minutes when we just exist with each other and talk a little.
The other morning I walked into the kitchen to find her already starting coffee in her maddeningly sexy little grey sleep shorts, and black worn out concert tee that was slipping off of her left shoulder. It was extra early for us both to be up, I guess we were both having trouble sleeping.
“Morning,” she half yawned, with a little grin my way when she heard me approach.
Between the little grin and seeing her so adorably sleepy, it took me a minute to form words.
“Morning. You’re up extra early, did you sleep ok?”
“I never sleep ok. What about you, you don’t need to be up this early,” she countered.
“I’m not sleeping great either.”
She slowly nodded in understanding. We both have had a lot on our minds lately.
“Since I have extra time, why don’t I make us my favorite for breakfast. Egg in a hole,” she suggested.
“That sounds great,” I told her.
She moved around the kitchen easily, and I watched transfixed as she ripped little circles out of the pieces of bread, got them toasted with butter in a pan, before cracking an egg into each hole.
She topped them with salt, pepper, and a little salsa before handing me my plate.
I relished the way the runny yolk soaked into the bread.
Then the coffee machine finished brewing, and she got two mugs out.
“You only take a little cream, right?”
“You got it. Thanks, mi vida.”
I couldn’t help the endearment. I had made a fuss about taking care of her, but I was still getting used to someone living with me and taking care of me, too.
Having someone who knows how I take my coffee, and is willing to make me her favorite breakfast when we both can’t sleep, was and still is incredible.
It actually pained me to see her leave for the diner that day.
I wished we could have sat and enjoyed our coffees together all morning.
She stops by my work for a drink after her shift sometimes.
It’s fantastic to see her, but I don’t get to pay nearly as much attention to her as I would like if it’s busy.
Then she’s usually asleep when I get home from the bar.
She’s also busy with her community service, anger management classes, and researching how to start her dream non-profit.
There’s no getting around it. I miss her.
When our days off happen to overlap, we have a great time hanging out together.
The house feels more lively with her in it, not suffocating like I thought it might.
Her throaty laugh has become a favorite sound of mine.
So much for keeping this a strictly friendly, business type of arrangement, because the walls I’ve always kept up are crumbling like sand with her.
Damn my dad for being right that this would happen.
We did manage to get in a quick family dinner a little over a week ago, where the kids and Gina monopolized her.
They love her, and I love how she interacts with them.
The way she and Gina get along like two peas in a pod, and how much Ava especially worships her new “auntie,” makes it all feel so right and natural.
Although, poor Gina is having a hard time convincing Ava that she can’t make her hair red like Celeste’s without some serious work at the salon that she is too young to get.
As much as I’ve resisted having a serious relationship, and not allowed myself to let anyone get too close, Celeste is under my skin and becoming a wonderful part of my family.
The few kisses we’ve shared for show, the casual touches, the flirting and teasing, all have her invading my thoughts constantly.
It’s been inevitable from that moment nearly three months ago now when I first met her, and even more so now that we’re living together.
Am I terrified? Extremely. This is everything I’ve tried to avoid.
It doesn’t make my current feelings any less true.
I want my wife.
It’s becoming torture, because now knowing what she’s been through, I have no idea how to pursue more without making her skittish or pushing her boundaries.
I’m very much on board with the idea that we could try dating for real, but she has a lot on her plate that she’s trying to accomplish, and dating is probably the furthest thing from her mind.
Then there’s the fear that if things do go badly if we try, what happens to our arrangement?
What happens to the amazing friendship we’ve built? Would the risk be worth it?
The birds are loving our situation at least, since now it’s not just me at home talking with them, playing with them, and giving them affection.
The new little flock mate we rescued is a girl, and we decided to name her Tinkerbell, since her green coloring reminds us of her dress.
Her personality is just as sassy, too. She gets along really well with Daisy and Hermes after slowly doing introductions, but she also has no problem letting them know if they annoy her. We both love her so much already.
Celeste and I have bonded over taking in a pet together.
She will swear up and down that Tink is mine, that I took her to the vet and made the decision to bring her home.
I call her on that bullshit, though. She was the one who immediately called me because she wanted to help the little cutie.
She fusses over making sure Tink is happy and healthy just as much as I do, and even does the same for her step-birds.
She’s not a step-bird mom, she’s the bird mom who stepped up.
In the grand tradition of married couples, we’ve also bickered over the fact that we didn’t do a prenup.
“How could we overlook that? Don’t think I forgot about needing to talk about this just because you called me a cute Spanish endearment, I looked up what mi vida means. Are you fluent, by the way?” Celeste had all but howled when I got home from work late the day we rescued Tink.
“We had a lot going on, and I’m not worried about it. I trust that you wouldn’t take me to the cleaners. I’m not fluent, but I grew up speaking it a lot with my abuela,” I answered her, trying to hold back a chuckle.
“Of course I wouldn’t take you to the cleaners, but we still needed to cross all of the t’s to make sure you’re protected!”
“You’re adorable when you’re outraged on my behalf, but stop worrying,” I told her with a boop to her nose, which brought her up short.
She blinked at me in pure surprise, as if she’d never been called adorable.
Then she booped me back, cracked up, and ran out of my office.
The saucy look she gave me over her shoulder to see if I’d give chase had my blood on fire.
“Hermes, help, your daddy is going to get me,” she’d shouted breathlessly.
“Beautiful Celeste,” he’d said back, almost anxiously.
Hearing her call me daddy made me almost fall over my feet while running after her, which I think she did on purpose. I still caught her, turning her around and wrapping her in a bear hug as we both cackled.
The memory of how she rested her forehead on my chest all out of breath still makes me grin.
Now I’m playing with the birds after seeing Celeste off to work this morning, taking a quick nap, and doing some needed stress cleaning.
I have off today, so I’ll actually see her when she gets home from her longer shift.
Wouldn’t she love coming home to a home cooked meal after a hard day?
The idea immediately pops into my head to make my abuela’s arepas since I know Celeste loves them so much.
We’ve been pretty good about splitting up the cooking, and it’s seemed to ease her mind about getting doted on. It’s my turn tonight anyway.
Once the birds are situated in their aviaries, I head to the store to get the ingredients I need.
I have no delusions that I can make the arepas as well as my abuela did, because she had the magic touch that can’t be replicated, but I know I have it close.
I’ve even jumped in to help make them at the bar sometimes if our cooks are overwhelmed.
As soon as I get home I start prepping. The pork starts braising low and slow with our family’s signature spice blend, I pickle some onions and jalapenos to use as a topping, and finally make the dough.
Hopefully she’ll be impressed. Maybe over the course of talking when we eat, I can find a way to bring up how I’m feeling, and figure out if she’s feeling at all the same.
I know she’s affected by me, but whether she wants to act on it is a whole other story.
There is still plenty of time before she gets home, and I need to occupy my mind with something other than her, so I head into my office to get some admin work done for the bar.
As my computer boots up, I text Diana to check in on how today is going, and she replies quickly that all is well.
My emails are pretty under control, but there are a handful to take care of.
I have to reply to a local foodie influencer whose content is amazing, so I reached out to her to ask about doing a collab.
She says she’d love to work with me, and pitches some ideas on talking about how our lemon hibiscus margarita is the drink of the summer, or since we’re now getting toward fall, possibly talking up our apple crisp margarita.
She’s also interested in the history of our arepas. I love those ideas.