Aliza
I wake up with a startle. Oh...just my phone. I reach over my head and onto my shelf above my bed. I should really stop leaving it there. I say out loud. Something stirs beside me. "Hey babe" a gruff voice says. Erik! I look at him, hair messy yes tried. Half asleep.
Honestly I never thought I'd ever get married....but here we are. In bed with my husband. If you don't know who Erik Pouls is Either you've been living under a rock. Or you don't pay attention to the chart of millionares.
I slowly get out of bed, his hand dragging slowly off my waist. I rub my eyes, trying to shake off the adrenaline from waking up like I’d been launched out of a cannon. The room is still dim, morning light barely slipping through the curtains. Erik shifts again, burying his face in the pillow like he’s trying to hide from the day.
“You’re up early,” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep.
“Blame my phone,” I say, stretching my arms above my head. “It tried to assassinate me.”
He huffs out a tired laugh — the kind he only does when he’s half-conscious. I stand, feeling the cool floor under my feet. I slide on my orange fuzzy slippers and reach for my robe....right. It's getting washed today.
I kiss Erik's forehead. He grumbles something that's either "No..I don't want pancakes" or "Five more minutes" I can never really tell with him.
I walk out of my—our—room. I turn right, and look at my phone. Two missed texts from Aaron. Damnit. I quickly tap into the message thread and see his messages "Skipping opening day today, huh?" and "Aliza, PLEASE come to work today. We're so busy. We've had a total on 83 orders." My eyes widen. Fuck! I forgot today we're opening. Damnit!
I rush back to my room and yank the closet door open. "Please tell me i have the outfit prepared" Over and over again. My hands speed through the hangers. A-hah! Found It!
I take my shirt off, the cold AC air hitting my chest. I Carefully fold it, and rush to the drawers, I grab a lavender bra and clip it on, and I rush to get my black boots.
Erik stirs, and wakes up. "Baby? Are you late for something?" He says. I look over at him and say "Todays the day my bookstore officially opens. Remember?" His eyes widen. "Wait- What?"
Erik sits up so fast his hair sticks up in five different directions. “Wait—today today?”
I’m hopping on one foot trying to get my boot on. “YES today today!”
He blinks at me, still half-asleep, still processing.
“But… you said you were ready.”
“I WAS ready! And then I slept! And now I’m NOT ready!”
I grab my bag, shove my phone inside, and nearly trip over my own slippers.
Erik finally stands, rubbing his face. “Do you need help?”
I freeze.
He’s standing there in pajama pants, hair a disaster, eyes soft and worried — a literal millionaire looking like he just woke up in a tree
I grab my jacket and throw it on. Rush out the bedroom, boots clicking on the hardwood floor. I grab my keys from the small side table next to the door.
I rush into my sleek black Honda ridgeline from 2007 that Erik INSISTS I get rid of.
I open the door and get in, I put my key in the keyhole and start driving.
