The first thing Jake felt was the familiar, rhythmic vibration of his phone against the nightstand. Squinting against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains of his childhood bedroom, he reached out and swiped the screen awake.
Catharine [06:15 AM]: Good morning, hope you slept better than the markets did last night. ❤️
A small smile tuged at his lips as he typed out a quick response. 'Good morning. Slept like a winner. Talk soon.' He waited a few seconds, but the "typing" bubble didn't appear. 'I guess she's probably already in the shower or halfway through a morning jog,' he thought, knowing her habit of seizing the day before the sun was fully up.
He stayed in bed for another minute, enjoying the rare peace of a Wednesday morning in a house that didn't demand a billion-mark hotel valuation. But the smell of fresh coffee and sizzling fat was an invitation he couldn't ignore.
---
