Novel & Cerita Books & Brunch

“I do. I read the articles you sent me.” She waved a manicured hand. “Anyway, I’m not here to talk about your sleep schedule or your skincare – though I do have a wonderful esthetician if you’re interested.” “Noted.” She reached into her handbag and pulled out a gold-edged notecard. It smelled faintly of perfume and expensive printer ink. She slid it across my desk. “I’m organizing a brunch this Saturday.” She said, tapping on the card. “Something casual – mimosas, tea sandwiches, smoked salmon, and unfiltered gossip. The usual. It’ll be fun.”

—Aiden got all pinkish at the top of his cheekbones—“helped me come up with something you would like.” “Maybe I should go out with him.” “I would strenuously object.” She unwrapped the book and burst out laughing. It was a folio society edition of Rebecca. The restaurant turned out to be a wood cabin built on a traffic island near London Bridge. Inside, it was clean and unfussy, all grown-up shades of brown, and books everywhere—there was even one on their table, a copy of Eros the Bittersweet. And it turned out the whole deal was about telling stories through food. Which she… yeah. Cheesy or not, she loved it.

Not even a little. Brunch was already being set up when we entered the dining area. The long table by the windows was dressed casually, sunlight pouring over polished wood and porcelain plates. Fresh fruit, pastries, a stack of pancakes still steaming faintly, eggs done three ways, grilled vegetables, juice, coffee—comfort food elevated just enough to feel indulgent. Alaric pulled out my chair before sitting across from me, sleeves rolled up, posture relaxed in a way that still felt novel to witness.

As I recall the call, he said that anytime after lunch so I think, 12:30 pm is the right time. "12:30, I think." I said and tried to stand up but Cosmos guided me like I'm an old lady that have to be guided with everything. "Okay. I already prepared your brunch." He said that made my brows furrow. "Brunch?" I asked him with still confusion registered in my face. "Yes. Brunch. Breakfast and lunch. All in one meal. I cooked your favorite." He said as an answer to my question. "Okay. I'll just go get changed." I said and stood up from laying on the bed.

Does he want to talk about our almost-kiss? Before he can speak, a line of servants silently enters the dining room carrying several heavy silver platters. They surround us, setting down plates of gooey sticky buns, fresh biscuits, sizzling sausages, and fluffy scrambled eggs. It’s everything we could possibly want for a restaurant-quality weekend brunch.

Bella's pov. I had been on my lap top for a while and suddenly realised I hadn't eaten so I decided to order brunch, I reached out for the hotels service phone. " Room service, please," I said anticipating a response, "Good morning! What can I get for you today?" A friendly voice asked I'd like to order brunch, please." I replied. Can I get the avocado toast with scrambled eggs and a cappuccino?" "Absolutely, ma'am. That'll be about 20 minutes. Would you like it delivered to your room or would you prefer to pick it up?"

Ashwin adjusted the display of freshly baked pastries at Mount Haven Bookstore and Café, his fingers brushing against the warm surface of a croissant as he arranged them neatly on the counter. The smell of coffee, sugar, and aged books blended into a comforting atmosphere that made it one of his favorite places in the world.

She puts her book down and smiles at me, “It’s a nice place for a meal. And they have good coffee.” “Yeah it's a nice place, they have good food too,” I confirm as I take a seat and grab the menu, “Sorry I’m hungry. I can’t eat breakfast before the morning session,” as if my body wants to convince my stomach growls causing me to blush. “Point well made,” Mary-Jane laughs. As we wait for our brunch to be brought I wonder how I’m going to steer the conversation to the direction I want it to go. I want to hear her story so I can check if my gut feeling is right.

he said, voice low and casual. I stared at him, then sipped water like it was vodka. “Because you forced me, and I was too hungry to run, idiot.” He nodded slowly. “Same for the last part. But not because of the food.” If I had a fork right then, I might have driven it into his knee. Maybe after I ate. The waiter set down two plates. Warm croissant and scrambled eggs arranged like someone with a celestial OCD had plated them. Coffee scent filled the air. Around us, brunch felt like a ritual for people pretending to have free time.

If I decide to confront Barbra, I won't be able to finish making the breakfast in time. So I got back in the car and drove off. I drove two blocks down to The Morning Table, a small brunch spot on Laurel Avenue. I ordered their signature breakfast box—scrambled eggs with smoked sausage, sourdough toast, and a side of fruit and yogurt. I added a fresh-squeezed orange juice to the order and made sure it was packed neatly in their navy-and-gold boxes. By the time I arrived at Carter Enterprises on Lennox Drive, it was a quarter past nine. The building towered over me like a giant keeping secrets. I stepped inside, my heart pounding.