different generation and are set in their ways. Le t’ s face it... I’ m on the receiving end of these endeavors. I’ m not about to do anything to have them reconsider their daily care-giving. The feminist in me decides to bite her tongue and enjoy her delicious homemade breakfast.
The coffee is being poured and the food served as I join the table. I sit down in the only open chair which is directly to the right of Do m’ s place at the head of the table. He has n’ t come into the room yet and so we wait to devour the beautiful meal until he joins us. My stomach growls at the sight of my syrup laden plate. The few sips of coffee that I take do little to appease it.
Dom finally joins us, ending his call just as he walks in and places his cell phone in his pocket. I know he must have gotten less sleep than I had, so how is it possible that he looks even more drop dead sexy than usual this morning?
His crisp white dress shirt fails to camouflage the bulges under his shirt. I blink hard to clear my mind of the taunting sight. He catches me stealing another glimpse at his rounded pecs and smiles as he takes his place at the end of the table.
“ Sorry about that. Just some last minute details. You could have started without me . ”
He knows full well that if I had taken one bite of my food, the three women sitting with us would have pounced. They didn't raise me to suddenly throw caution to the wind and break an untold amount of etiquette especially before I’ ve even finished my first cup of coffee. Nonna takes the initiative to start the chain of holding hands around our feast.
“ We wait for you, Dominico. Now we say grace and thank . ”
We all follow suit, holding the hand of the person closest on either side. Dom grasps my palm and bows his head as I dip my chin. Nonna nods approvingly as we all assume the position, before lowering her own head and giving thanks.
“ Dear Lord... thank you for wonderful breakfast we share with Domenico. Keep him safe to come home. Bless his trip with good things and hold his heart pure . ”
The sounds of plate shifting and utensil clanking signals the start to the meal. I try to take my hand from Do m’ s but he holds firm, staring around at his plate taking inventory of his meal. I pull my hand harder only for it to be held hostage as the frustration in me grows. Do m’ s mouth purses tight as he holds down his smirk, using his free hand to raise his coffee cup to his lips.
I glance around the table to see women enjoying their breakfast and chatting, willing one of them to notice and reprimand him for his taunting behavior. We play a tug of war of sorts with my hand until I grow angry that my waffles are cooling.
Determined to free myself and salvage what is left of my food, I pull much harder as Dom casually drops my hand in time to see me fly backward and almost out of my chair. The women look up at the loud movement. Dom nearly spits out his coffee mid-swallow as he stifles his laugh, hiding his guilt from his spectators. Clearing his throat, he looks first at our moms and then at me, in a mock authoritative tone, reprimanding me.
“ V... really. This is a breakfast table. Control yourself! , ” and then he winks.
What. A little. Prick. I gather myself back in my chair as eyes are catching me from all directions to determine the cause of my most recent bout of clumsiness.
“ Sorry.... sorry . ”
Slowly, the table returns to its previous state, just in time to enjoy the last bit of warmth to my breakfast and finish my coffee while the caffeine starts to work its wonder on my body. Dishes are cleared, counters wiped and food scraps discarded. I excuse myself to return to my room to shower for the day.
~*~
The warm water washes away my embarrassment from the practical joke. Stepping out of the oversized shower stall, I choose the larger of the towels to wrap my long hair, turban style. The smaller of the two struggles to cover my body as I hold
The coffee is being poured and the food served as I join the table. I sit down in the only open chair which is directly to the right of Do m’ s place at the head of the table. He has n’ t come into the room yet and so we wait to devour the beautiful meal until he joins us. My stomach growls at the sight of my syrup laden plate. The few sips of coffee that I take do little to appease it.
Dom finally joins us, ending his call just as he walks in and places his cell phone in his pocket. I know he must have gotten less sleep than I had, so how is it possible that he looks even more drop dead sexy than usual this morning?
His crisp white dress shirt fails to camouflage the bulges under his shirt. I blink hard to clear my mind of the taunting sight. He catches me stealing another glimpse at his rounded pecs and smiles as he takes his place at the end of the table.
“ Sorry about that. Just some last minute details. You could have started without me . ”
He knows full well that if I had taken one bite of my food, the three women sitting with us would have pounced. They didn't raise me to suddenly throw caution to the wind and break an untold amount of etiquette especially before I’ ve even finished my first cup of coffee. Nonna takes the initiative to start the chain of holding hands around our feast.
“ We wait for you, Dominico. Now we say grace and thank . ”
We all follow suit, holding the hand of the person closest on either side. Dom grasps my palm and bows his head as I dip my chin. Nonna nods approvingly as we all assume the position, before lowering her own head and giving thanks.
“ Dear Lord... thank you for wonderful breakfast we share with Domenico. Keep him safe to come home. Bless his trip with good things and hold his heart pure . ”
The sounds of plate shifting and utensil clanking signals the start to the meal. I try to take my hand from Do m’ s but he holds firm, staring around at his plate taking inventory of his meal. I pull my hand harder only for it to be held hostage as the frustration in me grows. Do m’ s mouth purses tight as he holds down his smirk, using his free hand to raise his coffee cup to his lips.
I glance around the table to see women enjoying their breakfast and chatting, willing one of them to notice and reprimand him for his taunting behavior. We play a tug of war of sorts with my hand until I grow angry that my waffles are cooling.
Determined to free myself and salvage what is left of my food, I pull much harder as Dom casually drops my hand in time to see me fly backward and almost out of my chair. The women look up at the loud movement. Dom nearly spits out his coffee mid-swallow as he stifles his laugh, hiding his guilt from his spectators. Clearing his throat, he looks first at our moms and then at me, in a mock authoritative tone, reprimanding me.
“ V... really. This is a breakfast table. Control yourself! , ” and then he winks.
What. A little. Prick. I gather myself back in my chair as eyes are catching me from all directions to determine the cause of my most recent bout of clumsiness.
“ Sorry.... sorry . ”
Slowly, the table returns to its previous state, just in time to enjoy the last bit of warmth to my breakfast and finish my coffee while the caffeine starts to work its wonder on my body. Dishes are cleared, counters wiped and food scraps discarded. I excuse myself to return to my room to shower for the day.
~*~
The warm water washes away my embarrassment from the practical joke. Stepping out of the oversized shower stall, I choose the larger of the towels to wrap my long hair, turban style. The smaller of the two struggles to cover my body as I hold
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