Abigail opens her eyes and immediately is aware she’s not in her own bed. A moment later, her memory catches up and she recalls going out with Lauren. She rolls onto her back and props her arm under her head and smiles as she recalls the events of last night.
Lauren enters with a cup of coffee.”Morning. Sleep okay?”
Abigail laughs. “After we finally got to sleep.”
Lauren sets her cup on the night stand and sits on the bed. She leans toward Abigail who meets her halfway for a kiss.
“I made some coffee. I’d have brought you a cup, but I don’t know how you take it.”
“Black, for future reference.”
“It’s in the kitchen. I believe you remember the way.”
“I do. Are my jeans still in there?”
“Right where you left them.”
“Was it obvious —”
“Yes. But fortunately, this isn’t my first go round, so I knew to take it slow.”
“I guess I was a little anxious.”
“That’s putting it mildly. We’ll talk about your technique later.”
They kiss again.
“What do you have planned for the day?” Lauren asks.
“First, check on Mom. Then back to the grindstone. I have finals in a few weeks.”
“How’s your mom doing?”
“She’s getting around okay. I think she’s suffering cabin fever. Ready to head home.”
“That’s understandable. I hope I get to meet her.”
“Are we at the meet the parent stage already,” Abigail says with a laugh.
“We don’t have to be at a stage for me to get to know the people in your life.”
“True.”
“Like Neil. Why does it seem he shows up wherever you are?”
Abigail laughs.
“I sometimes make the mistake of letting him know where I’ll be,” Abigail says. “What you’ve seen are his efforts to be discreet.”
“Why does he do it?”
“Ever since he found out he has a younger sister, he’s taken his role as a big brother to heart.”
“That’s got to be weird, finding out you have this whole ready made family.”
“I’ve known they existed since before I was in high school, actually, but never thought I’d actually meet any of them. I still haven’t met the oldest. He works for the CDC in Atlanta. I guess if I ever make it there, we’ll meet because Neil says he doesn’t come home often.”
Lauren rises.
“Well, I could try to whip something up in the kitchen, show you what a horrible cook I am. Or we could get pastries down the street.”
“You do have food, right?”
“Of course. I don’t mind my cooking — not much.”
Abigail checks under the covers. “Let me get some clothes on and I’ll cook for you.”
“And she cooks, too. Must be fate which brought us together.”
“I was raised by a single parent, of course I can cook. If I can find all my clothes.”
Lauren starts toward the door. “You left a trail. Hang on, I’ll gather them up and bring them in.”
