Her bare feet pad down the stairs as I set the last plate on the table. It’s brimming with fresh diced pineapple and strawberries. Bacon’s still the prominent scent, though. Bacon and eggs for breakfast. Plus a platter of hotcakes with fruit in the center and of course, her coffee.

I grab her mug from her spot on the table. It’s still burning hot but I make sure to put it handle out as I turn around to face her. Maybe I’m pussywhipped. Maybe I’m sucking up. Either way, I don’t give a fuck.

The sight of her messy halo of hair and wide eyes with a bit of mascara still lingering from yesterday makes my heart pump hard in my chest. She’s gorgeous even when she’s a mess. She’s got nothing on but a baggy Henley of mine and it makes her seem even more petite than she already is. My Kat’s never been an early riser. Only when she has to, or apparently when the smell of breakfast is in the air.

“You have good timing,” I tell her as she hesitantly grabs the coffee. I can see her shoulders sag just a bit and her eyes close as she takes in the smell, though. It gives me a sense of pride. Even if it’s just for the moment.

“Good morning,” she says with a soft smile, but it’s barely hiding her true feelings. I force a smile back and pull out her chair.

“I don’t know the last time I had an actual breakfast,” she says as she takes the seat and then looks up at me. “Thank you.” It’s genuine, but with her shoulders hunched and that sad look in her eyes, I don’t give her a response.

I wish I could hold on to last night forever. But the sun had to rise, and I need to come clean to her. She deserves that much.

The chair legs scratch on the wooden floor as I pull out my seat. I grimace slightly and then clear my throat as I sit down, noticing how Kat doesn’t seem to care. She’s not nearly awake enough; sleep still dominates her expression.

With both hands cradling her mug, she leans back in her seat and gives me a small smile but doesn’t reach for any food. She doesn’t say anything either. All she does is wait. I wish I had something better to offer her than what’s going to come out of my mouth.

“I want a fresh start … and the marriage we were supposed to have,” I say as I push a fork through the pancake on my plate, but I don’t eat it. I’m already sick to my stomach.