GABRIELLA’S POV.
4 AM is my go-to time to open my eyes and kickstart my daily routine. Getting home by the time I wake up means no sleep. Walking into the house, I saunter into the sterilizing room. I dump my clutch on the tray, take off my clothes and proceed to wash my hands before slipping my feet into my slippers.
Stepping out of the room, I take the few seconds I can get to rest against the wall. Dragging in a deep breath, I count from one to four before breathing out. Counting from one to four again, I breathe in, and then out after counting. I repeat this process continually for ten minutes before proceeding to the kitchen.
Once I collected myself in the car, I left a text for the housekeepers and the rest of the teams’ heads to not come to work today. So that leaves breakfast-making and getting the children to school today to me. I need to spend enough time with my children before Leo and I get to have our visiting days.
Opening the top cabinet, I scan through the available ingredients before taking out some eggs, the self-rising flour container, the sugar storage, butter, and vegetable oil. Sauntering towards the fridge, I take put a carton of milk, and the vanilla extract.
Grabbing the edge of the island, I groan as tears slip down my face. Wiping it off with my wrist, I proceed to wash my hands again. I get a clean bowl from the bowl rack and place it on the countertop next to the sink. Cracking the eggs, I use a spoon to separate the yolks from the album.
“This is hard.” I mutter as my tears blur my vision making it hard for me to see properly.
Sniffing, I take another bowl and empty the yolks inside. Tipping in the flour measured, I add a generous pinch of salt, then sugar. Getting the whisker, I wish gradually as I add the milk followed by the melted butter.
“Why am I crying?” I mutter as I let go of the whisker to do its job until my mixture is smooth.
Adding the vanilla, I let it get mixed with the previous mixture. Adding the egg white I separated earlier, I whisk it myself before folding it gently into the batter.
“Leave the rest to me, Mom,” Mari says as she walks in.
Shaking my head, I turn to her and smile.
“No, get ready for school. I can do it. When did you learn to make waffles by the way?” I respond, as she takes a matching mouth mask and my heart melts when she grins at me.
“A lesson here and there. I made the last one, I told Mrs Hamper not to say a word to you. If you keep doing it yourself and Mrs Hamper keeps doing the same, when am I ever going to learn to cook? I might have a boyfriend soon, and not because I want to become a housewife but because I want to be able to boast that I can cook and when he challenges me to make a meal, I will yield perfect results he will be thrilled.” She tells me.
Sounds like a plan she has been having for a while. However, I am happy about the fact that despite being aware of my divorce proposal, she still wants to give herself a chance to find her own love.
“When you have a boyfriend or you already have one you want to impress? Where is your phone? You are not going to snap this and add some ‘early morning with the batter’ kind of caption to post on your insta?” I ask.
“Ish Mom, that caption is not it. I will go; ‘getting a little fancy in the kitchen.’ or ‘Waffle processed morning.’ nicer, right?” She says as she heats the waffle maker.
Brushing the waffle maker with a little oil, I let her ladle in enough better to just cover the surface while I record a video of her.
“Mommy?” She calls out to me as she lets it cook.
“Yes, Baby?” I answer and she takes her own phone to record a video of the both of us.
“Say something.” She urges me audibly.
“Go get ready and stop the chef duties,” I say, and both laugh as she hurries out.
Stepping back, I nod repeatedly to hold myself back from crying but it does not control anything. Taking the ready waffles out, I turn the oven and set it's in low to keep the waffles warm while I make some more.
“I want.” Tyler’s voice from the dining area has me cleaning up the mess my tears made on my face.
”It is ready, Baby Boy. Grab a plate.” I rasped, cleared my throat and continued.
“Good morning, Mama.” He greets and kisses my temple before moving to take out his plate.
“Good morning, Baby Boy, I love you,” I respond as I serve him.
“I love you always, Mama. Are you going somewhere?” He asks.
“No. I will sleep in today. I am dropping you and your sister off myself this morning.” I tell him.
“Mari is just getting dressed.” He responds and I grin.
“Just because you got dressed first today,” I comment as I get the syrup.
“Of course, I have to commend myself. She shouts a lot because she does it first. Today I get to shout.” He responds.
“Not today, Devil.” Mari says as she walks in dressed.
She carries her plate, and Tyler heads out with her as Leo walks in.
“Hi, Babe.” He says.
And... “So, Mama do I get to eat you out now. It is a soundproof room with no cameras.” Waylon’s voice replays in my ears.
“Hi. Your food is ready too.” I respond and take out his plate to serve his then mine.
He takes the plates from me, and I grab the juice on my way out.
“Instead of driving us to school, let Daddy drive and you sit next to him while we sit in the back.” Tyler suggests and I smile.
“Sure, if Daddy is not tired.” I respond as I pour myself some juice.
“Family pooling sounds great. Let's eat up.” Leo responds and I eat hurriedly but neatly.
Running up the stairs, I grab a coat and hurry back downstairs to catch up with them.