I think the rain shortcircuits my brain. This could be a good thing. Or maybe just a temporary thing. Either way I'll take it, along with this morning's steady diet of coffee, whiskey and Devil, a sleepy handsome man who decided when I was getting ready to leave, that hell, no, you're not going anywhere and offered up a lazy breakfast if I promised not to put my dress back on.
I countered that I would stay another two hours if he put on a fire.
Done, he said, but he didn't take his eyes off me.
Caleb is back in control today. Last night after the hard feelings had been softened and the house was rightened he admitted he was a bit stung, that I've hardly seen him, that August gets all of my free time that Lochlan doesn't use and that I've all but ghosted Caleb as of late. He was gracious in accepting my protests that I've been busy, that it wasn't on purpose, and he's seemed to temper his possessiveness again. It's never going to go away completely, it just comes in waves, knocking us down, dragging us out to sea before dumping us back on solid ground.
You hungry?
Starving, I admit.
Cheese toast for two? I'll get the bread, you go borrow some cheese from your house.
How did you even run out?
Neamhchiontach, I didn't know when you'd be back so I didn't buy any. It's been three weeks.
Three weeks without cheese? That's like a national emergency.
No, three weeks without you.
You're keeping track?
Of course.
