Fate - Page 107/137

Once in the kitchen Ethan found a chirpy Darlene scrambling eggs, warming croissants and filling a coffee plunger. His daughter sat po paced at the breakfast bar. He wondered if explanations were due.

'Good morning Chloe?' Her cheerful food muffled response showed there weren't any. 'Why so happy after a very late night Darlene?' Ethan although pretty sure of the reason enquired innocently.

'Who wouldn't be happy? It's going to be a fine day followed by an even finer weekend. Is the lady of the house awake yet?'

Lady of the house? 'No. Should we let her sleep?'

'Don't think so. Best to return to normality quickly, though a restful day would be wise.'

Nodding in agreement Ethan took the now heavily laden breakfast tray from the bench and up to his Lady.

The overriding feeling was one of soft not hard, warm not biting cold, gentle filtered light, not eye piercing fluorescent, tantalizing aroma of coffee and something else which thankfully was not urine and grime. Seagulls? Harbour sounds? In a tunnel?

Blinking to clear her eyes Lauren's first sight was of Ethan placing a breakfast tray on the side table his smile restrained by concern and, was that …remorse? The twin ridges between his brows were a sure sign that all was not right in his world.

Shame mine feels great. Stretching like a contented cat Lauren went to speak, a thousand questions springing to mind, but Ethan forestalled her by gently resting his forefinger on her lips. He then caressingly began to draw an outline around her mouth making her words die in her throat and a lump form in her throat.

'I'm sorry, Lauren …. Yes it's the same day so you're still Lauren.' Ethan gently brushed a tangle of hair out of her eyes. 'Details later. First I'll bet you're not only feeling better but are also very hungry.'

'Ravenous.'

With a flourish Ethan removed a delicate cloth uncovering breakfast set on a beautiful olde worlde tray etched with an intricate design of entwined roses its legs extended.

'Oh how lovely!' Lauren whispered not sure if her voice would break.

Looking at Lauren Ethan drawled 'You have no idea. Sit up sweetheart'.

Sweetheart? On the tray was a basket of warm croissants, little dishes of jam, honey and softened butter, a pot of aromatic ground coffee and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. A short stemmed rose adorned the spread.

After placing the tray carefully across Lauren's legs Ethan flicked open a linen napkin like an experienced waiter and laid it across her lap.