“I groaned. Getting up was made harder by the fact I had Sarkisian’s arm draped across me. I eased out with care trying not to disturb him and headed for the shower. By the time I emerged dressed for a long day of chaos he was up and in the kitchen assembling the makings for omelets. The cinnamon oatmeal bread I’d put into the machine before going to bed beeped as I slid my arms around his waist. I muttered a mild curse and disengaged myself to dump the loaf on a wire rack to cool. Sarkisian wen...t for his own shower while I made us breakfast. He reappeared just as I was pouring the coffee and dishing out the fluffy egg concoction—one of Aunt Gerda’s fantastic recipes. She’d emerge later, probably in time to come watch the parade. She always enjoyed attending my events—if only for the amusement it afforded her to watch me struggling with all the nonsense people could devise. We ate quickly, gathered what we’d need then left to go our separate ways. He had to return to his apartment and change into uniform and I had to go straight to the parade route to discover what creative mishaps awaited me.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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