As fast as I could, I slip on my clothes and sprint out to the living room.
Sara is standing by the entrance of the kitchen, hand over her mouth while watching a man move gracefully around her kitchen.
“Didn’t I tell you to stay put?” This guy really doesn’t know how to listen. Thank goodness he decided to put some clothes on.
He turns around with a plate in one hand and a plastic fry turner in the other. “Nope, you didn’t. Eggs are done! Let’s have some breakfast!” He winks at Sara, turning around again to the stove.
All I can do is wipe a hand on my face as he skedaddles around the kitchen, putting bread loaf slices on a buttered pan.
"What the hell is happening? Why is Thirdhand’s Caleb making French toasts in our kitchen?” Sara whisper-screams beside me while watching the cele
