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Sunshine bathed the bedroom in a warm golden glow when Eliza’s eyes finally fluttered open. With a sleepy sigh, she closed them again and turned over, intent on snuggling Alexander while she dozed a little longer. Her arm flopped to the side, hunting for him only to find an empty pillow and cool sheets. She peeled her eyes open and squinted at the blurry clock on the bedside table.
12:17 PM
She sat up and ran her hands over her eyes before shoving the blessedly warm blankets aside and sliding from the bed. Even with all the excitement of yesterday, she hadn’t intended to sleep so late. As she opened the bedroom door, she cocked her head to the side; music drifted down the hallway, not so loud as to have woken her, but loud enough that the base was audible across the apartment.
After quickly using the bathroom and brushing her teeth, she padded down the hall towards the kitchen curiously. A pop song emanated from the Bluetooth speaker on the dining table, one of those peppy songs of the summer from a few years back. She paused in the entryway to the kitchen, a grin spreading across her face at the sight within.
Alexander stood in front of the stove in his t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair mussed from sleep, with a spatula held before his mouth like a microphone as his shoulders moved in time with the song. She could hear him singing along under his breath. He was apparently not at all bothered by the splats of batter he was leaving on the stove, the floor, and his sock-clad feet.
As the chorus swelled, his voice rose and he executed a spin that left him facing her. She expected him to blush, to be embarrassed, but he simply grinned back at her. He waggled his eyebrows as he slid across the linoleum floor towards her.
“You big goof,” she said, laughing.
His hand reached out in invitation, and she took it, laughing still as she gave in to his insanity. He spun her around once, and she began moving her hips to the beat until she was close enough to kiss him. His lips tasted like blueberries—he must have been sampling them while he cooked. God, she never wanted to stop kissing him.
“My, my. Control yourself, Mrs. Hamilton,” he teased when he pulled back, smirking, his lips hovering tantalizingly close to hers. “You’re going to make me burn our breakfast.”
Mrs. Hamilton. The name made her smile even wider, until her cheeks felt sore from being stretched too far. Angelica had announced them as Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton last night, as they danced their way into the reception hall, but something about hearing it this morning, from him, so casually, made the abstract notion of marriage feel more real: solid and permanent in a way she hadn’t expected. He was hers, now, forever, just as she was his.
Shaking off the thoughts, too deep for having just woken, she narrowed her eyes playfully and parried back, “Shut up and dance with me, Mr. Hamilton.”
His eyebrows rose, but he laughed, the sound low and sweet and perfect. She wrapped her arms around him and tugged him closer into a more heated kiss. He swayed with her, the way they’d slow danced last night, not at all in keeping with the tempo of the music. Pillowing her head on his shoulder, she did her best to soak in the pure joy of the moment. Not until the distinct scent of charred pancake met her nostrils did she finally pull away, to find a plume of smoke billowing from the frying pan. “I think the pancakes are actually burning.”
“Mm,” he hummed, still holding her, blissfully unconcerned.
“Alex,” she insisted, tapping his chest. “Come on. The fire alarm’s going to go off.”
He huffed and spun back around to flip the pancakes over. The tops were charred black, completely ruined. Grabbing the pan off the burner, he dumped the ruined cakes into the trash and measured out more batter.
Eliza lifted herself up onto the counter to watch him cook, popping a stray blueberry past her lips absently as she did. The pancake batter sprawled out in the pan (he always poured too much), and the two cakes merged into one. He frowned in concentration, using the spatula to separate and reshape them. His expression was serious, so endearing she felt she might burst from fondness. She bit her lip and lowered herself back to the floor to come up behind him and slide her arms around him. Her hands grabbed a fistful of his soft cotton t-shirt, bunching the material over his belly as she hugged him tight and planted a kiss on his shoulder.
His head leaned back and the side to encourage her kisses, and she happily nuzzled his neck while he attempted to continue focusing on their breakfast. A kiss to the tender spot just below his ear elicited a pleased moan, followed swiftly by a sidelong glance. “Keep that up, and I’m going to burn the pancakes again.”
She drew a lazy pattern over his stomach with her fingers and repeated the affectionate gesture, an impish smirk on her lips. With a little groan, he switched off the burner, shoved the frying pan with half cooked pancake batter away from the heated surface, and turned around. “You know what, forget it. We’ll order delivery later.”
She squealed as he lifted her up from the floor. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she adjusted her nose to the other side of his to kiss him more firmly before she agreed breathlessly, “Mm. Good idea. You’re not very good at making pancakes.”
A growl vibrated low in his throat at the charge. “Only because you were distracting me. You take that back.”
“Make me,” she challenged, still grinning.
The mischievous gleam in his eyes made her shiver with anticipation. “Oh, just you wait, my love. Just you wait.”