I woke to the sounds of rain. I remembered it had rained the first night I had sex with Griffin too. I had no idea what time it was. Hearing the rain, sleeping in this wonderful bed, next to the man I loved, put me into a coma of happiness. Except Elliott was missing. I heard footsteps.

“Good afternoon, Sleeping Beauty. Brunch in bed.” He held a tray bearing the most incredible smells that teased me just enough to open my eyelids.

“What time is it anyway? And where’s my nightgown?” I asked, trying to get oriented to a day that had started without me.

“It’s about twelve-thirty Friday afternoon. And your nightgown is on the floor where it belongs.” He grinned and put the tray next to me in bed. I smelled the aroma of good, strong coffee.

I surveyed the tray of food: beautifully poached eggs, the thinnest and most exquisite smoked salmon atop a perfectly toasted piece of brioche, a side of honeydew and cantaloupe melon balls rolling around on a saucer like tiny marbles. I propped myself up in bed, and then I hesitated. I looked down at my bare breasts and then the poached eggs. I hadn’t quite gotten comfortable with the whole eating naked concept that Elliott seemed quite at home with. He must’ve observed my bashful behavior because he dashed to his closet and fetched the most luxurious terrycloth robe I had ever seen. I tied it around my waist and adjusted myself to enjoy the delicious breakfast Elliott had prepared.

“I bet you find me a bit repressed,” I offered in the way of an apology.

“After last night, I find nothing repressed about you, Bailey. And I find your ways entirely endearing.”

I leaned over and kissed him, briefly worrying about my morning breath. I retreated behind the tray and started with a bite of honeydew.

“You always start with green. I must tell you, Ms. Edgeworth, I have big plans for you,” he started as I was taking a bite of the salmon and egg. It tasted as good as it looked. It was free of heavy hollandaise sauce. I liked that. Good chefs may add a simple light drizzle of sauce while a mediocre one will just drown the poor eggs in lumpy, tasteless hollandaise.

“What are these big plans?” I managed between bites.

“Nothing you can’t handle, I promise. I figured we could spend the afternoon pretty much doing what we’ve been doing, but tonight, I would like to go out and try some of the newest and hottest restaurants to see if there is any serious competition.”

The idea sounded splendid to me. “Really? Like normal people? I’ve been really wanting to go to Conrad’s 20/20. But those reservations are hard to get—kind of like our restaurant.”