EZ and I went straight to bed when we got home. Of course he slept in my bed, there was nowhere else for him to sleep. I was used to sharing a bed with EZ though, and I was glad that I had a king size because EZ was a total bed hog. Everytime I slept with him I wound up with his leg on my side or an elbow in my ribs. It was always like that, but I didn't care.
Come the morning, EZ insisted on going to breakfast because he was crap for help in the kitchen and he said I wasn't much better. I never could compare to the food he'd had growing up, but I was OK. He just didn't care for my personal style of cooking. It was edible at least.
While we were waiting for the food to be brought to us at the cafe where even a coffee had a double digit price, EZ brought up a subject I know he had been thinking about since last night.
"So, I want to help you find Mr Mysterious." He was looking at me as he sipped his espresso.
