“Drink up,” Bastian said cheerfully. “You have work to do today.”
Charlotte pouted, but dutifully took a sip before putting her head back into her arms. Bastian winked at me, and I giggled as I finished cooking the eggs. He wasn't going to actually make her work, but he wasn't going to tell her that.
The silence as we waited for the eggs was comfortable, as if mornings like this were how things were supposed to be. I let out a happy sigh and just let myself enjoy it for a moment. If I closed my eyes, I wasn't working, or worrying about Dad, or rushing to meet a deadline. I was just making breakfast for people I cared about. I was where I was supposed to be.
The eggs finished and I scooped them onto the plates, leaving some in the pan. I had made far too many, but I figured I would just bring some up to Dad or eat them myself later. Bastian was sitting next to Charlotte, so I put my plate across from her and sat down to eat.
Charlotte peeked one eye up over her forearm and glared at the plate. “I hate food.”
“Eat it,” Bastian coaxed. “It will make you feel better.”
With a pained expression, she took a tiny bite of egg and then put her head back on the table. Bastian and I made eye contact and I couldn't help but giggle. Poor Charlotte. She was absolutely miserable.
“Smells good down here,” Dr. Verner announced, entering the kitchen. His dress shirt, this time a light green, was wrinkled, but he looked remarkably awake for having slept in a chair all night. His short brown hair stuck up at odd angles, but had damp spots from where he had obviously tried to smooth it down.
Just seeing him made me think of my father. Worry hit me like a physical punch in the stomach. “How is he?”
“Still sleeping,” Dr. Verner answered, going to the coffee pot and getting himself a cup. “Our flight is scheduled for noon and I'd like him to rest as much as possible until then. We have a busy day once we get to the hospital.”
I swallowed hard against the growing tightness in my chest. I felt like a terrible daughter for not going with them. Seeing my face, Bastian reached across the table and squeezed my hand. The butterflies that lived in my stomach didn't know whether to continue being worried about Dad, or if they should jump and dance because Bastian touched me.
“Thank you, Dr. Verner. I appreciate you taking care of him,” I whispered. I looked up and into Bastian's gray eyes. “And Bastian, I don't know how we'll ever repay you.”
“No need,” he assured me, giving my hand a gentle squeeze before letting go.
“What about me?” Charlotte asked, her words muffled as her head was still wrapped in her arms.
“Thank you for being such a good friend, Charlotte,” I told her, patting her elbow. She made a noise that sounded happy. It made me smile and shake my head.
“Would you like some eggs, Dr. Verner?” I asked, looking at Charlotte's rapidly cooling plate. “I made too many and it doesn't look like Charlotte's going to eat hers.”
“I'd love some. And she should eat them.” Dr. Verner sat down in the empty chair beside me. “The cysteine in the eggs breaks down acetaldehyde, the yucky headache-causing chemical that’s left over when the liver breaks down whatever you had last night.”
Charlotte looked up. “Give me the eggs, Ava. Give me all the eggs.”
I laughed and pushed her plate toward her before getting up to put the extra eggs on a plate for Dr. Verner. He attacked them like a starving man, leaving Charlotte holding her fork above her own plate and staring at it like she was preparing for battle.
“These are wonderful,” Dr. Verner congratulated me, snarfing down the eggs.
“Agreed,” Bastian added. I was glad to see his plate was empty. “Best eggs I've had in a long time.”
I blushed slightly at the compliment. I took a bite myself and decided that they were pretty good. Maybe not my best batch ever, but pretty close. Charlotte's phone started to ring, vibrating and skittering along the wooden table. She grabbed it and just slid it over to Bastian stuffing a bite of eggs into her mouth before she could think about it.
Bastian rolled his eyes, but answered the phone. “This is Bastian. Hi Leo... yeah, she's alive. Your favorite shirt, huh?” He stood up and covered the phone with his hand. “Please excuse me.”
The room felt empty despite being full of people when he left. Dr. Verner stood and put his empty plate in the sink before coming back over to me and putting his hand on my shoulder. “I'm going to go get everything ready for our flight. If you need anything, let me know.”
“Thank you, doctor,” I replied, pushing the eggs around on my plate. I knew I needed to eat, but I just wasn't hungry anymore. He patted my shoulder gently before heading out the door and leaving me with Charlotte.
Her head was back on the table and she wasn't moving. I poked her arm and she started to snore. I shook my head and made sure her hair was pulled back out of her face before taking her plate to the sink. At least she had managed to keep the two bites of eggs down.
I sat down at the table again, knowing I needed to finish my breakfast and get a cup of coffee in me so I could get going. I had a long day ahead of me, and if Charlotte could at least get her eggs down, so could I.
Chapter 14
The house was eerily quiet as I tiptoed down the empty hall. I could still see as moonlight flooded the windows with her mystic light, but it still felt dark and lonesome. I paused by the room that had been my fathers and stopped to peek inside. There was nothing of his left and the bed was made back into magazine perfection.
I already missed my dad. I had gone with him to the airport and said my goodbyes, but I felt like the worst daughter in the world. My father was going to the hospital because his heart didn't work properly, yet I was staying in the Caribbean at a mansion. It didn't feel right, yet I knew it was how things had to be. I had to finish this project, or we would never be able to pay his medical bills and we would lose the business.
I sighed, going to the window. The waves lapped at the moonlit shore in regular intervals, reminding me of a creature breathing. I thought about going outside, but a glass of wine sounded better. I had left a bottle down in the kitchen from dinner, and now it was calling my name.
The kitchen was dark. Everyone was in bed except for me. I couldn't sleep, but my brain refused to concentrate on work. I had worked since returning from the airport until Charlotte forced me to eat something. She was the one who had given me the wine. I had worked after dinner, but now that it was long past bed time, I couldn't work anymore.