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 The following morning I take my time getting ready

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 The following morning I take my time getting ready. I don't want to see Tristan, but I signed my contract as his chef the last time I was there. Damn obligations. I stand in front of his door, contemplating what to do next. I could call in sick, but then again, he would know it was a lie. Raising my hand, I knocked on the door, hoping he wasn't up and I could just go to the restaurant. The vibration in my back pocket piques my interest. Who the hell would be calling me this early?

Henry? I answer the phone quickly.

"Good morning. Is everything okay?"

"Lena," his words were slurring.

"Henry? Are you drunk?" Duh, Lena, he is.

"No. I miss you. Come see me." Drunk Henry isnt good for me. Drunk Henry and I always end up naked. The last thing I want is to end up naked with him.

"Where are you?" I ask, and Tristan's front door opens, and he stands before me in nothing but grey sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his waist. Henry says something, but I dont hear a word. My eyes roam Tristan's muscular chest moving lower and lower. All I can hear is J.Holiday's Bed playing in my head.

"Good morning," his morning voice is doing it for me. He makes a hand gesture of a phone, bringing it to his ear. Right. I'm on the phone.

"Henry? Where are you?" He doesn't answer, and I focus on listening to his background and hear his light snores. I should have known he would fall asleep. I guess I'll be the bigger person when I go back to the restaurant and have that talk. I do want my apology first. "Good night, Henry." I sigh, ending the call. Tristan looks at me with curiosity, and I shake my head, telling him it's nothing.

I enter the condo, placing my things in the living room before heading to the kitchen. I asked him what he would like to eat this morning, and he surprised me and said nothing sexual. Okay, maybe I'm the only horny one here right now. Did he sleep with someone after he left my apartment? I mean, he could do as he pleases since we're not in a relationship, but the thought of him with someone else doesn't sit right with me.

I decided to make a light and fluffy baked apple pancake. Tristan mentioned he loves pancakes. Tristan says he needs to wash up and make some morning calls and will be back down in an hour or so. I was alright with it because the pancake would bake for about twenty minutes and needed to cool off. An hour and thirty minutes were approaching, and Tristan hasn't come downstairs. The damn pancake was cold now; I looked at the phone on the counter, debating if I could call Henry. He probably is up now.

Fuck it.

I grab my phone calling him. He picks up on the fourth ring.

"Lena?"

"Hey," I lean against the kitchen aisle. "How are you feeling?"

He lets out a deep sigh. "Sorry about that. So, when will you be coming back to the restaurant? The cooks would deny it, but they miss you in the kitchen." he chuckles.

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