28. Arden
Arden
Idon’t think I sleep well in this house.
Or rather... I sleep better when I’m in Orion’s arms. Or in Mars’ company.
Most likely I sleep better when I haven’t spent the day being attacked by another MC, lying to a doctor about what’s wrong with me, lying to the men who are trying to take care of me, and then sharing midnight secrets with Orion.
Today has contained too much emotion for one set of hours. And not enough chocolate.
I flip the sheets off, put on a robe, and creep out of my room, my feet aimed for the kitchen.
It’s deserted, thank goodness, and I put a pot on the stove and fill it with enough milk to make several mugs of hot chocolate.
Not because I expect anyone else to show up–the house is dark and quiet–but because I believe in being prepared if they do.
I turn to the pantry and get the cocoa out, then pour several packets into the heating milk.
It’s more than I’ll drink on my own, but if Mars or Orion shows up...
As I pour the cocoa and think about the men, though, my movements get slower.
I’m exhausted after the events of the day, my body nearly as tired as my mind, and I’m not even sure how I’ve still got my eyes open.
The scene at the cafe today was too close to what happened in New York, and that man following afterward...
I wonder again if I should go home, where I have guards and better safety. Armed cars and my father’s security system. But was I actually safer there?
After all, that first cafe scene happened in New York, and my father’s guards weren’t there to do a damn thing about it.
And in New York, I don’t have Mars and Orion taking care of me.
My hands start shaking at the thought and I put one of them to my heart, feeling for the beat. It’s fine, everything’s fine, but the shaking won’t stop, and I start to panic.
Then another hand takes the packets of chocolate out of my hand and pushes me softly to the side.
“You sit,” Orion murmurs. “Let me.”
I blink at him, only half surprised to see him. I still argue, though. On principle.
“I’m perfectly capable–”
“I know. I’m still making it.”
He mixes the chocolate in the milk, then pushes me again and I move toward a bar stool, surrendering the job of chocolatier to my handsome, mysterious man. As I watch, he adds another packet of chocolate so the cocoa is extra strong, just the way I like it.
I didn’t realize he’d noticed that.
He pours the liquid into two mugs, then turns to the bar with them. A bottle of whiskey appears in his hand as if by magic, and he pours a finger into my cup and slightly more into his.
When he slides me my mug, his fingers claim mine, and stick. The mug is hot, but he’s got my hand trapped against it and I don’t have the heart to move away.
Something in my heart is telling me I’m too close to losing him, and I can’t stand the thought. I don’t want to let go of him. I don’t care how much the mug might burn me.
It’s never going to force me to let him go.
We’re sitting there staring at each other in dead silence, our eyes saying exactly what we’re thinking, when Mars wanders in.
He’s dressed only in pajama pants and slippers and his hair is standing on end like he’s just been electrocuted.
He looks like he just woke up and came directly here without pausing to look in the mirror.
When he looks up and notices us, he makes a face. “What is it with you two and cocoa at 2 in the morning?”
“It’s medicinal,” I say, at the same time as Orion says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
We look at each other and stifle our laughter.
“Well you’ve never made one for me,” Mars grouses.
“You don’t even like chocolate,” Orion protests.
Mars fixes him with a glare. “I love chocolate, Orion. It’s caramel I don’t like.”
I jump down from the bar stool, suddenly feeling better. “Well I hope you like it strong. I made extra but Orion’s put too much chocolate in. So you’re going to have to take it stiff.”
“I only put more in because you like it that way!” Orion protests.
I stick my tongue out at him as I turn the burner back on to rewarm the cocoa in the pan, and he makes a face at me. Mars catches that part of the interaction and snorts, but when he looks at me and catches me laughing, he starts laughing as well.
His grin when I hand him his own mug of chocolate and whiskey is worth everything, and suddenly I’m very, very glad that I couldn’t fall asleep tonight.
Then Mars says, as if it’s the most logical thing in the world, “As long as we’re in the kitchen, maybe we should make some cinnamon rolls.”
There’s exactly zero reason for us to make cinnamon rolls.
They take hours to mix and then bake, and I know from experience that the dough is impossible to work with.
But he looks like a little boy who’s just realized that he woke up early on Christmas Day, and I would never forgive myself if I said no.
So I run to my room for the recipe, and start gathering the ingredients.
The moment we start trying to make the dough, however, things start to go badly.
We’re all half asleep and incapable of measuring responsibly or taking turns, which results in all three of us measuring the right amount of flour and dumping it into the mixer.
When Mars decides to turn said mixer on, flour explodes from the thing and covers all of us.
“Mars!” Orion shouts. “What are you doing?”
“The directions said to mix well!” Mars responds, offended.
“There wasn’t even anything in there to mix, you goof,” I say, wiping flour out of my eyes. “What did you think you were mixing?”
He pauses for a moment. “The flour, obviously.”
Orion turns the blender off and stares at him. “Pretty sure flour comes pre-mixed, friend.”
Instead of answering, Mars scoops a handful of flour off the counter and throws it right at Orion.
Or rather... Well, he doesn’t throw it as much as he tosses it into the air, the fine white powder spreading like dust in the air.
Orion responds with a handful of cinnamon, which acts the same way, and I start laughing at both of them.
“You two are supposed to be big, scary men, and the best you can do is throw flour and cinnamon?” I giggle. “What’s wrong with you?”
Mars takes one long look at me, then yanks the scoop out of the sugar bowl, tosses it to the side, and dumps the whole bowl of sugar over my head.
I shriek as it runs down my shirt and over my belly, and Orion responses by splashing Mars with the whiskey, which makes Mars rush to the faucet and throw water at Orion.
I’m laughing so hard at this point that I slide to the ground, my knees giving out, and then I realize that I’m sitting in a puddle of whiskey.
This is, for some reason, even funnier, and now I start howling with glee.
Orion hears me and rushes over, slips in the alcohol, and goes to the floor, and this drives him into gales of laughter.
Mars is doubled over at his friend’s antics, and I have the fleeting thought that I’ve never heard the two of them laughing like this before.
I don’t even know if I’ve seen them smile at the same time.
And I’ve never been this happy in my entire life. I’ve never felt so at home, or so loved.
We laugh for several minutes until we’re left breathless and exhausted, all of us too drunk to consider cleaning up.
“Maybe cinnamon rolls were a bad idea,” Mars finally says.
Orion flicks more flour at him. “Ya think?”
I pull open the fridge and look through it, wondering what we can eat that doesn’t involve baking. Then I see the perfect option. I pull out the box of leftover pizza from our dinner last night and turn toward the men.
“Pizza?”
“Perfect,” Mars groans.
“Living room,” Orion adds.
Five minutes later we’re on the couch watching I Love Lucy reruns on TV, the lights off and the kitchen left behind in all its flour-clad glory. I’m laying with my head in Orion’s lap and my feet in Mars’, the pizza box resting on my hip so both men can reach it.
And I think this might actually be Heaven.
Though in Heaven, this couch would be a bit bigger, so we could all lay down.
Still, I’m happy to be the only one with that pleasure right now, and I snuggle down into the leather of the thing, check to make sure I can feel both Mars and Orion’s hands on me, and take another bite of pizza.
Maybe the couch doesn’t have to be bigger to be Heaven.
Maybe the fact that I’m the only one who gets to lay down is part of that eternal paradise thing people are always talking about.