He whimpered and hugged his arm.
I mashed avocado.
He sighed heavily.
I stared at him.
He stared petulantly at the pills in the orange bottle, his bottom lip protruding.
“Good grief.” I found a glass in the cupboard, filled it with water, and slammed it down in front of him. Instead of letting him takemypills, I removed the bottle from his hand and slid the white paper bag containinghisprescription toward him. “Diem filled your script. Take one and shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to. Your face is hurting my ears.”
Darcy scowled as he dramatically tore into the paper bag, unearthed a new orange pill bottle, and shook two white tablets into his palm. I suspected he was only supposed to take one, but I didn’t have the energy to go another round.
Diem arrived freshly showered, surveyed Darcy’s slumped posture at the table before meeting me at the counter as I buttered his toast.
“Are you hungry, Darcy?” he asked.
“He’s not,” I said at the same time Darcy announced, “I hate eggs.”
“Have cereal,” Diem suggested.
“There’s no milk.” I handed Diem his breakfast, doing all I could to communicate my resentment.
The corner of Diem’s lip twitched. He remained in a locked gaze with me but spoke to Darcy. “How about toast and peanut butter?”
“Okay.”
“You did not just give away my peanut butter.”
“There’s a full jar. Problem solved.” Diem closed the gap and pecked a kiss on my lips.
“It’s never solved. He is an endless well of complaints.”
Another kiss. I was losing the argument. “Thank you for cooking.”
“Yeah, yeah. For you, anything.” The next kiss lasted longer, and I savored Diem’s minty freshness.
Darcy groaned and covered his eyes with a hand. “It never fucking stops.”
I broke free from Diem’s mouth, humming in satisfaction. “I think we should have sex right here on the kitchen counter. I want your monster dick in my ass.”
“I’m not listening,” Darcy announced.
“Good. I’m a moaner.”
Diem chuckled, took his breakfast to the table, and sat across from Darcy.
Diem ate with a hunger born from a hard workout, and I made peanut butter toast—for myself—and sat to enjoy it, earning a dejected look from Darcy.
“What? If you want toast, make your own.” Then I suffered a weak moment and stuck out my tongue.
Darcy opened his mouth as though about to protest or have an opinion, but one look from Diem and he swallowed it. Ducking his chin, he got up and made his own goddamn breakfast.
24