Royally Kissed | ✓

44|2; the prettiest words

n o t e

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sky

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—fortyfour—

{ part two }
the prettiest words

WHILE PAIGE MIGHT had slept a little too late, she was able to wake up at around seven in the morning. Mr Santiago just got into the cabin while she was treading down the stairs earlier. He had a bag of fresh items with him that he'd gotten from the local market.

"Good morning, Ma'am Paige," he'd greeted, the moment they both reached the kitchen. Accompanied with his rich Filipino accent, Mr Santiago had a wavy black hair, some white streaks on them, his skin naturally tanned that reminded her of the tropics. "You're up very early, ah?"

"Yes," she said, perching her phone atop the counter before looking inside the bag that he'd placed there. "What d'you got?"

"Some eggs, cheese, bananas..." he went on as she peered at the foods he mentioned one by one, "...what do you want for breakfast, Ma'am?"

"Oh, please. Just Paige, Santi...? Can I call you Santi?"

"No problem!" He laughed, so did she. "Tell me what you want and I will make it for you."

She hummed in a way that was akin to someone thinking. "So we all know that I'm allergic to eggs, but Owen likes them. I'm thinking about waffles actually. But I'll have avocado toasts for today. Do we still have them, though?"

"Yes, we have!"

She let out a breath. "Great. Um, you know what, Santi? I think I'd like to cook for the sleepyhead today."

"Oh, I'll help you, then." Santi grinned in that sunny way of his and began to rummaged through the fridge. Then, he peered at her behind his shoulder as he added, "You both slept late? Ah, you sneaky little girl. You must have tired him out ha?"

She flushed. "What? No, it's not like that."

"Oh, shush." He'd placed some items in successive manner on the counter as he squinted at her with a meaningful gaze. Santi waved her off and laughed, his chest puffing out. "It's okay, noh. You don't have to be shy with me. Me and my wife, we do it all the time."

"Santi," she gasped in horror. "Nothing happened, really. He's not my boyfriend."

He frowned, pulling out a few sourdough bread from a plastic bag and put them on a plate. "Oh, he isn't? I thought...but you look good together. What can go wrong with you and him alone in here, right? He loves you, you love him. It's all good! Look oh, you're blushing!"

She blinked, and flushed even more. "Well, I mean, we're not–like. I dunno." Even though Santi was wrong on a couple of things, she didn't bother correcting him. It didn't matter much, really. She shook her head and breathed out an exasperated sigh as if this was stressing her out. Santi had no filter at all. He was too friendly and straightforward, but she wasn't complaining. You couldn't when one was a good company. "Anyways, I'll leave the prep to you and I'll do the cooking. I just need some mushrooms, four eggs, rocket leaves, tomatoes, um, olive oil–yeah. Oh, and chili sauce, please."

"Okay, no problem."

"Thanks, Santi. Don't worry about the avocado toasts. I'll deal with that later."