Breakfast At Tiffany's Novels & Stories

She turned when she saw me. “There she is,” she said. “We were just about to come drag you out.” “Please don’t,” I muttered, rubbing my temple. “It’s too early for dramatics.” Tiffany pulled out a chair for me at the small round table and plopped down beside me. “Says the woman who dropped a whole mystery on me last night and then passed out like Cinderella after the ball.” Bethany brought over a plate stacked with toast and scrambled eggs. “Eat. And spill.”

Of course, I hadn't expected her to show up, and rightly so early in the morning when she could still be in bed or getting ready to do something else. We walked into the cafe just as the small bells at the door jingled. Tiffany looks bored as she sauntered to the counter to make her order. I ask for coffee and cinnamon rolls while Tiffany takes her sweet time before deciding on cheesecake and coffee. We take our orders and find a chair in one of the fancy spots by the window. Afterward, we drop into the booths and sit opposite each other like rivals do. We were the biggest rivals and we both knew it.

‘This woman' Brent thought and went ahead to grab her waist, leaning his head into the crook of her neck and kissed her. “Oh my, Brent? When did you get here? You just scared me.” Tiffany's sweet voice rolled off sweetly as she spoke. “Sorry.” Brent hummed. “You woke up earlier, to make me breakfast??” He asked, his voice laced with teasing. “You wish! I was hungry, so I got up to make food.” Tiffany said, shoving him off. Brent chuckled, “Really? The food isn't for me?” “Yes!” “You don't love me anymore then. I'll go make an order for food.” He moved away from her and was about to leave, when Tiffany laughed out loud.

Aspen tracks a guy as he walks past the front and opens the door. My mouth started salivating before I walked in this morning and I've been impatiently waiting for someone to feed me since I sat down. Monday through Saturday I'm iffy on the whole breakfast meal, but Sundays... Sundays are the day where we call it brunch and use it as an excuse to stuff our faces with sugary goodness. Most weekends the promise of Tahiti French toast is the one reason I get out of bed.

He brought his hands back to mine and I have nothing to do, but to leave it. I was shocked when we entered the cafeteria, is he serious? People stood up and bowed when they saw Brigor. "Hey, are we going to eat here?" I whispered when we sat down on our sits. "Why? Do you want to have breakfast at Tiffany's?" "I'm just asking, cause I thought you're not eating in places like this." "Yeah, I'm not. It's my first time here." "But why?" "I don't know." "I bet you're hiding from someone."

“Not when the bed suddenly got colder.” He rested his chin lightly on her shoulder as they both looked out at the water. “Beautiful,” he said. May nodded. “Almost makes me forget we run a company.” Damien chuckled. “Almost.” Breakfast Without Deadlines The resort’s outdoor café overlooked the sea, and the staff had already prepared breakfast on a private terrace. Fresh fruit, warm pastries, coffee, and tea filled the table. For once, neither of them opened a laptop. May noticed it first. “You left your phone upstairs,” she said.

"No, I didn't. I have to prepare your waffles. You want some extra ice cream?” "Give me a scoop." Then suddenly Tiffany's expression became serious again. “You have to open yourself up to those.” "I'm fine, Tiffany. I'm busy with my restaurant." She kept her focus on the waffle. She looked at the waffles on three different plates, then she chopped the berries she prepared into the bowl. She sprinkled the berries randomly on top of the warm waffle which looked tempting. She would hang on as long as possible on her waffle to avoid Tiffany.

Cortney picks up the phone on the side table, presses number two, and orders the Signature Celebrity Breakfast for both of us. Seven minutes later, there’s a soft knock. Two attendants wheel in a gleaming silver cart. On it sits the most elegant breakfast I’ve ever seen — avocado roses on toast, tiny poached eggs with hollandaise, fresh berries glistening with honey, warm croissants, and delicate crêpes dusted with gold leaf. Small carafes of fresh juice and a beautiful mimosa sit beside Cortney’s plate. “Compliments of the house,” one attendant says with a warm smile. “Enjoy your transformation.”

Her intention was to make dinner, but Shawn beat her to it as he was setting the table when she got to the dinning room. “Good morning.” He turned to look at her. “Good morning. Hope you slept well.” “Yes, I did. How about you?” She asked. “I did too. Take a seat as breakfast is served.” Shawn said and gestured to the plates on the table. “Thank you.” Tiffany said and uncovered the plate in front of her. Breakfast was made of pancakes, eggs and coffee and Tiffany enjoyed every bit of it. “Okay, it's time to go.” Shawn said after Tiffany cleared the table.

But here I was – standing in the middle of my absurdly large closet flanked by three bored dogs and a steadily growing pile of rejected outfits, trying to figure out what the invitation actually meant by garden elegant casual. Brayden, of course, was no help. “Wear whatever you want.” He said, calmly lounging on my bed like I wasn’t currently stressing about this. Tiffany’s brunch invite had come with a follow-up text two days later. Tiffany: Hello darling. Can’t wait for Sunday! Let me know if you have any dietary restrictions. Remember, the theme is champagne, canapés, and conversation – so arrive hungry and curious. Brayden had promptly informed her of my shellfish allergy. At least I wou