The Song

Part Sixty-Six

I woke up the next morning to a rose on the bedside table next to me. I turned to see if Aston was still asleep, but he was nowhere to be seen. His side of the bed was neat and there weren’t any clothes on the floor anywhere.

“Hmm…” I mused, slipping out of bed and grabbing a dressing gown. I picked the rose up off the bedside table and headed out of the bedroom. Wandering downstairs the smell of breakfast came wafting up my nose, putting a grin on my lips.

“Morning!” Aston grinned when I came into the kitchen. He had plates laid out on the breakfast bar, a bouquet of roses at the center.

“Morning Ast. This better not be an ‘I’m sorry’ breakfast,” I teased.

“It’s not,” he said, coming over and pressing a kiss against my cheek.

“What is it then?” I asked, confused.

“So, I know this is probably not a day you want to celebrate, but I wanted to do something,” Aston said, “It’s six months since the crash.”

“Today? Wow, I wasn’t even paying attention. Times flown.”

“I know it’s a bit weird to be celebrating,” he said, “But after yesterday I decided I wanted to put something together. To celebrate the fact that we’ve made it through this together.”

“That’s sweet,” I smiled, sitting down at the breakfast bar.

“I’ve got the whole day planned,” Aston said, “Since we’re meant to be at your Dad’s on holiday.”

“Sorry about that,” I grimaced, “I know you were looking forward to a few relaxing days at the beach house.”

“Hey it’s fine,” Aston said, passing me a cup of coffee, “We’ll go another time soon.” I smiled at him, watching him finish up the food on the stove. “Hey Jess, do you mind getting the champagne out.”

“Champagne breakfast?” I giggled.

“Got a problem with that?”

“No,” I replied, going over to the sink so I could pop the bottle open without causing a huge mess.

“There’s fresh orange juice too if you want to mix it together.”

“Sounds fab,” I replied, setting the bottle on the counter. I grabbed two champagne flutes out of the cupboards and filled them halfway, topping the rest off with orange juice and setting them in front of our places as the breakfast bar.

“And some waffles,” Aston said, setting a huge plate of homemade waffles in front of me.

“How did you make these?”

“I got a thing at the shops, you just put the batter in.”

“When were you at the shops anyway?”

“When you were sleeping,” Aston grinned, “I’m sort of jet lagged at the moment, wasn’t that tired so I got up really early and went to one of those 24 hour shops.”

“You left me all by myself!” I teased.

“Sorry babe,” Aston replied, sitting down next to me and serving himself some waffles. There were all sorts of toppings to put on them, and we ate in companionable silence as I tried different combinations of fruits and whipped cream.

“Thanks for doing this Ast.”

“I’m just glad you’re still here,” he said, sipping his champagne, “Don’t know what I would have done.”

“Awww…” I sighed, leaning across and kissing his cheek lightly.

“I just want to have a nice, quiet, cozy day with you,” he said, “I don’t wanna be worrying about finding clues or memories or anything. I just want to celebrate us.”