When Hearts Are on the Line

A loud buzzing woke me up. Actually it woke Mike up, who woke me up to turn it off.

“What the fuck was that?”

“My alarm, my phone is synchronized to the house. I set it so that I’d remember to wake you up.” I guess it worked. I type my security key into my iPad and the buzzing stops.

“It’s five in the morning…”

“Why are we in the living room?” I ask as I stretch out my cramped legs.

“Well you kind of fell asleep here and it would be weird if I carried you back to your room and it’d be weird if I just left you here so I decided to stay here.”

“Okay,” I’m still feeling a little drowsy. “What do you want to do now?”

“I’ll make you breakfast.” Mike says opening my fridge. No guy has ever made breakfast for me, not even my dad. This is kind of hot.

“Wow,” I say quietly to myself. “What are you going to make for me?”

“Ambrosia, you have like half a bottle of Vitamin Water and a takeout container of spinach salad, which you should probably throw away by now.” Mike closes my fridge. “Is twenty minutes enough for you to get dressed?”

I’m pretty sure I’ve taken longer choosing my pyjamas. ”I’ll see you in twenty.”

I put on the first things I see: a slouchy grey sweater dress and black leggings. I walk downstairs to my shoe closet and pull out a pair of beige UGGs. I’m done in ten minutes and very proud of myself.

“It’s like five thirty. Where are we going to go? No restaurant is open at this hour” I don’t even think McDonald’s serves breakfast this early.

Mike opens my front door for me. “My house.” Oh. It’s been a while since I’ve been to his house usually he just comes over here.

The two of us cut across the hedges make our way to the lovely Tudor-style mansion. “I love your house.” The overall theme of greys, creams, and dark woods in the house just looks so effortlessly-chic. It seems like something Greg or Ivy would come up with but certainly not like any house I’ve ever done. I can't believe a twenty something guy would live in a place like this.

Mike takes half a dozen eggs from his fridge. “Thanks, Ambrosia, I’ll tell my mother when she comes for Christmas.”

“Your family is coming down? That’s so cute.” I would be lying if I said I wasn’t imagining Mike’s family all gathered around the fireplace wearing cheesy Christmas sweaters and drinking hot cocoa.

Mike seamlessly cracks the eggs into a stainless steel bowl. “Can you whisk these?”

“Yeah,” I say. I’m looking through his draws for the whisk.

“It’s in the draw next to the-”

“Found it!” I grab the bowl from him and start whisking.

Mike grabs some vegetables from his fridge. “Are you going to fly back to Vancouver or-”

“My parents and I aren’t spending Christmas together. We don’t talk.” I reply, trying to shut down the conversation as fast as possible.

“So what are you going to do for Christmas? Are you and Greg going to spend the day having some sort of television marathon.” What did I do last year? I think Milly took me to her parents’ estate in Santa Barbra where I had to make awkward small talk.

“No, Greg’s going back to Oklahoma. Ivy is going to New Jersey to visit her boyfriend’s family. Jasmine’s flying to the Caribbean and her family’s meeting her there.” Oh my god, my life is pathetic.

Mike gives me a quizzical look. “Do you have any friends you don’t work with?”

I laugh, “I have you, don’t I?” I mean friends do things like eat breakfast with each other all the time. Although Greg does prefer to brunch at the Beverly Hills Hotel rather than at my house.

He smiles and mixes the vegetables into the eggs I’ve been whisking. “Yeah you do, I’m glad I have you as my neighbour. Do you want to spend Christmas with me and my family?”

That sounds way better than being alone and the irony that I was ordering Chinese food on Christmas. “I wouldn’t want to impose-”.

Mike pours the egg mixture into a pan. “You’re joking right? We’re probably going to have to live together for another couple of days.”

“Fine, I guess I’ll be spending Christmas with you and your family.” Looks like I’ll be buying a lot more presents this year. I actually like shopping for other people more than I like shopping for myself. It gives me a chance to do what I do best, show people what they want but don’t know that they want.

“It smells really good.” Maybe I should start making breakfast for myself instead of buying muffins and a coffee from the Starbucks across the street from my offices. “Do you do this often?”

He puts the omelet onto two plates. “What?”

“Cook girls breakfast.” I put four slices of bread into the toaster.

“Not as often since I’ve moved to LA.” Mike pours two glasses of orange juice. I don’t blame him, the dating scene in LA is brutal. “Do you?”

“Seriously Mike? You live next door, wouldn’t you know if there were extra cars in my driveway or if I was coming home in the morning” I stick a forkful of the omelet into my mouth. Oh my god this is hot. Like temperature hot. But it’s still so good. “But no, I don’t cook breakfast for anyone, not even me.”

“Ambrosia, it’s the most important meal of the day. People who skip breakfast are more likely to be obese.”

“Thanks,” I say sarcastically. “I’m pretty sure that’s the last thing I have to worry about.”

Mike finishes off his first slice of toast. “How much more weight do you have to gain?”

“Since I gained the first five pounds so easily, my doctor decided to up the ante and have me aim for 90 pounds by my appointment with him next week.”

“Well you look good.”

“Really? Because I’m pretty sure my ass received most of my weight gain.” I can just see the butt implant accusations inside Life&Style now. I’m going to buy new pants soon.

He chuckles “Well what did you think I meant?”