SOF Chapter 30

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With freshly new clothes on and dry hair I walk out of my room and follow the smell of hot coffee. As I walk down the long glass hallway, I notice the carpet on the floor. A beige fluffy carpet, which causes me to smile. Maybe Patricia is right. Maybe he's in love with me as well.

"Coffee?" he asks me as I reach the kitchen.

"You're a world saver!" I say grinning.

He returns my grin as he pours fresh coffee into a bright yellow cup.

"I'm kinda missing Mrs. Santos already...." I say as I take the cup from him.

"Why am I that bad at cooking?"

"No.not at all. You're a good cook. A really good cook. Better than me, actually. I'm a horrible cook. I'm good at cleaning. Patricia cooks and I clean, that's why we survived four years in an apartment together. That's why we still live together." I say and he chuckles.

"Well, what would you like to have for breakfast?"

"Pancakes." I say smiling.

He raises an eyebrow on me,"Pancakes."

"Hey, you asked."

"Let me rephrase the question then: I can make omelettes, is that alright?"

I giggle, "Sounds perfect."

I watch him crack the eggs into the pan and wonder if that's how it always going to be. Every morning with him in the kitchen, making me omelettes. An image I could get used to.

"It kind of surprises me that you can cook, actually."

"Why's that?" he asks me, his eyes focused on the pan, his back faced to me.

"Because of Mrs. Santos. I thought you were totally unable to even find a cup for your coffee."

He chuckles again, "I didn't grow up with such a service, Miss Mendoza. I earned it. All of it."

I nodd, "I wish I was so lucky."

"You are."

"I mean, I didn't earn it."

He turn around, "You did earn it."

"How?"

"By making me happy." he says before he turns his head to the pan again.

I smile, I am making him happy. Am I the only one? Probably not. He has seven other women who make him happy. Who satisfy him.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Oh, it's never good when you say that, Miss Mendoza."

I shoot a look at him.

"Alright ask."

"Why didn't you find your father yet? Biological, I mean. Is he dead as well?"

He shakes his head, "No he's alive. Somewhere in the States."

"What's his name?"

"William."

"How long have you been looking for him?"

I nodd, "I have a feeling you will find him soon, Richard."

"You know something I don't?"

"I have good instincts. I trust my instincts." I say smiling.

"I'm flying to Russia this evening." he informs me as he places the omelette on two plates.

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