I’ve always taken Sunday mornings slowly. I moved slowly and I thought slowly. It was a time when I allowed myself to reboot. I would roll around in bed and lounge for a good hour before actually getting up. So to hear a knock at the front door at eight o’clock this morning more than threw me off. Why is someone knocking so early? I peeked down the hallway and the knocking grew louder. I threw my hoodie back over my head and stumbled in the direction of the noise. At some point in the night, I’d stripped both the hoodie and the sweats off after growing hot. I opened the door rather slowly, poking my face out.

“Well, good morning, sleepy face!” Samuel sounded entirely too cheerful for eight in the morning on a Sunday. He was one of those happy morning people. Ugh.

“Um, good morning.” I stretched my arm up, suddenly aware that I wasn’t wearing much from the waist down. My standard underwear was boy shorts. Samuel’s eyes started to move down the length of my body, and I scrambled to pull my hoodie down as far as I could.

“Sorry,” I said.

“No, don’t be. I’m not,” he said in a somewhat joking tone.

I punched him in the arm. “Why are you here so early? Are you crazy?”

“I brought breakfast! I thought we could eat, and then, as much as I hate to say it, I’m going to need you to get dressed.” He was teasing me and it was making me blush.

“What did you bring for breakfast?” I was admittedly a little hungry at the mention of it, which was surprising considering my usual lack of appetite.

“I’m only willing to tell you if you let me in,” he said.

I realized I hadn’t even invited him in. He was standing on the porch, holding large bags the entire time.

“Ah, sorry, come on in.”

I opened the door the rest of the way, and he made his way into the kitchen. He sat the bags on the counter, and I sat across from him on a barstool. He started taking things out of the bags. Eggs, bacon, a loaf of French bread, cinnamon, strawberries, milk, and orange juice all sat on the counter. I looked up at him with curious eyes.

“I’m going to make you French toast. Would you like some coffee while I’m cooking?” he asked.

“God, yes.” I sounded like I was begging. He pulled two covered coffees from the last bag.

“You struck me as someone who likes caramel, so I got you a caramel coffee with skim milk,” he said, looking at me for approval.

I nodded and took it from his hand. It wasn’t black and therefore it would be delicious. I took a sip and instantly loved it.

He made himself comfortable in my kitchen, opening various cabinets and drawers, finding what he needed. I watched him closely as he cracked eggs, started a pan for the bacon, and then added cinnamon to the egg batter. He moved back and forth pretty effortlessly, and I could tell this was something he enjoyed.

“What’s your favorite breakfast?” he asked.

“Well, lately, not much. But I really do love French toast,” I said. And I did. It was probably my favorite before pancakes or waffles.

“Why haven’t you had much of an appetite?” he asked.

“Oh, I don’t know, I guess I’m the type that when I go through something hard or sad, I just don’t eat all that much.” I shrugged. I could see by the look on his face he was thinking hard about that.

“Where is Mason?” I asked.

“He’s with his grandparents this weekend. He visits them a few times a month to help give me a little bit of a break and to spend time with them.”

“Well, that’s nice. I’m sure you do need a break now and then doing it by yourself.”

“Yeah, I do. But really, I don’t mind it. I always wanted to be a dad.”

I wrapped my arms around my stomach and nodded. These were the conversations that hurt the most. I couldn’t manage to hear anyone speak about babies or parenthood without feeling a sadness wash over me.

“Did you ever think about having kids? Like in your marriage or in general?” he asked.

Here it was. The conversation I avoided at all costs. It was bound to happen sooner or later. I never really knew how much to say about it and always stumbled through it.

“We did, yes. I had a miscarriage late in my pregnancy. We tried after but we couldn’t…”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, eyes dark and fixed on me.

“It’s okay.” He didn’t need to know the rest. I didn’t want him to know the rest.

He sliced French bread and dipped it into the beaten eggs. Then he sliced the strawberries. I sipped my coffee and we fell into a familiar silence.

* * *

I slumped over in my chair, so full I didn’t want to move. The man could cook, I would give him that.

“Okay, now go get dressed!” Samuel said.

“Um, where are we going?” I asked.

“Yeah, I can’t tell you that.”

“I don’t make a habit of going to unknown places with people I don’t really know,” I said.

“Well, then I’m in luck because I definitely think you know me. You’ve been knowing me this whole time,” he said. And there he went again, saying these strange things I connected with.

“Fine, fine. I’ll go get dressed. Do I have time to shower really quick?”

“Sure, no problem, I’ll just clean up this breakfast stuff while I wait.”

I nodded and made my way down the hallway into my room. I heard him start to sing to himself. I couldn’t make out what song it was, but I made a note to myself to ask. I retrieved my towel from my room and slipped into the bathroom. Light off, door shut. Luckily, enough light came in from the window that I didn’t have to keep the door cracked like I had to with some bathrooms. I kept my shower short since he was waiting on me, then went back out into the living room. He wasn’t there. I did a quick twirl around to see him staring out the windows of the sunroom and walked up beside him with a reasonably large gap between us. I looked around to see what he was looking at but it was quiet out there.

“Do you always shower with the lights off?”

His question broke the silence. I peered over, a little shocked by his question. He noticed? “Um, yeah. For a while now actually. It has a certain kind of calming effect for me.”

“When did it start?” he asked.

I wasn’t prepared to answer that. “Maybe I’ll tell you one day. But for now, I’ll keep it a secret. Like where we are going.” I smiled.

“Touché. For now.” He grinned at me like I was a puzzle to be put back together and he was figuring out the pieces faster than I wanted.

“We ready to go?” I asked, wanting to shift the conversation.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

And with that, we were heading to the door.