Even as I pay attention to my saucepan and stir it rhythmically, I yawn. I couldn’t sleep after all, not even to nap. There was just too much on my mind. Its pretty fortunate that my last shift was fairly easy, nothing serious that required urgent escalation, no problematic accidents or crimes creating bad cases.

Even so, I’ve been awake since 6pm yesterday, been to work, and now it’s nearly midday. And since I’ve got back, I’ve had to deal with getting married, cleaning up my entire apartment, and having to cram harder than I’ve had to for a few years, just to make sure I don’t mess up too hard in the general knowledge of my new world.

New world… still don’t think its sunk in yet… Part of me probably thinks this is an extended dream or very well-funded prank campaign against me. But the chances of that dwindle with every second; and the moment that my wife returns, I suppose it will really seal the deal.

My wife! It’s scary to find how easily my thinking has shifted to the idea. A fool that hasn’t even had a proper date in two years due to working like a dunce is suddenly married. My brain simply can’t cross these streams or understand how one led to another, but such appears to be the reality.

The sauce is done. I take it off the hob, and pour it over the chicken. Tada; simple homemade arrabiata. This meal is a huge improvisation with what I had to hand, and I can almost feel the disapproving stare of my mother’s ghost, serving this on a first dinner date. She could also be a vegan or something. Well, I could eat all of it myself in the worst-case scenario.

Surely enough with the timing, I hear a grinding, clunking noise outside, and then hear the front door opening of its own accord again. I’m still amazed at her lack of hesitation in just zapping it open every time.

I turn to look, and this time, she is considerably more casual looking; a bright blue sweater-dress and a short tan leather coat; black stockings covering her long legs. Her long flaxen hair is up in twin ponytails that drop to her shoulder blades, and her head is crowned with a poofy blue tartan newsboy cap. She is tugging along a large red suitcase on rollers. Though completely different to the wedding dress getup, it’s a very stylish look, and though I’m biased, I’m sure her beauty could pull off pretty much anything.

She hesitates on the threshold of the doorway. I suppose I can’t blame her. A scary predator is eyeing her from the other side. Uh… what to say?

“Welcome home, Lapis.” I decide is the safest option, and I simultaneously face my body away from her towards the kitchen counter to reduce my threat level.

She immediately recoils and her eyes go wide. She clearly wasn’t expecting that. She gulps but for some reason her face colours. Did I make another mistake?

“Uh. Yeah. Hi! I’m… I’m home!” She whispers.

She shakes her head, and manages a goofy grin. She steps over the threshold. The first mission was a success!

I look at her suitcase. It actually makes me a little depressed. Even though I couldn’t fit an overwhelming parade of outfits and shoes in the flat even if I wanted to, it just seems like such a small amount of luggage for someone moving to a new home.

“Do you have anything else? Is it outside? Do you want me to bring it up for you?” I query.

“Uh. There… there are two more in the car. Is that okay?”

I nod. Thank goodness there is at least something else.

“Well, I cleared out the left-hand chest of drawers for you, and there is space in the wardrobe for some things.” I say, pointing over my shoulder to the bedroom. “I’m sorry if its not much space; I can get some more storage in a couple of days if you need it. But this happened quite suddenly for the both of us, didn’t it?”

“Mmm… right. Uuh… thank you.” She rolls her suitcase past me and opens the door I indicated.

I already have my slippers on and a spare key in my pocket, so I go out the door into the carpark. As I get to the bottom, I see a mature woman in an honest to goodness French maid uniform, taking a suitcase out the boot of a Mercedes that looks out of place with all the other hatchbacks and people carriers.

Wait! Wait! Oh shit! I should have figured from her father just pissing money in my direction. She’s from a real rich household! Oh no! Have I got to put up her maid as well? Even before that… hells, this is a real step backwards for her, isn’t it? Curse my previous stingy self for not at least owning a home. Christ!

Whilst I’m paralysed with thought, the maid notices me stood not ten feet away from her.

“Oh. This maid welcomes the Young Master Corwin.” She curtsies.

“Yes. Uh... Welcome. You can call me Jim, its fine. I’ll help take Lapis’ luggage up.”

She looks momentarily taken aback and then smiles. Her whole stance seems to relax.

“If you wish, Sir Jim. How gentlemanly. She stubbornly took up her own first case as well.”

“No, no, it’s the least I can do. May I ask…”

“Ah; don’t worry, I will not be a third wheel to your relationship, Sir Jim.”

Uk! Is this precognition of a professional servant!?!?

“I am, in any case, attached to the Myneris household as a whole, not to the lady Lapis, though in some ways I have been her servant and nanny for quite some years.”

Seriously; she’s absolutely a noble-girl. Guh. I should have figured. Heck, I looked up loads of things but should have Moogled the Myneris family itself. I involuntarily scratch my cheek.

I pick up the two remaining cases that have been unpacked from the car boot. One is absolutely heavier than the other; what’s in this one!?

“The right-hand case has her favourite shoes and a modest collection of jewellery. Though you did not specify any further dowry requirements from our household, Master Jasper, that is to say Lady Lapis’s elder brother, determined to add that as personal gift.”

Seriously. Psychic maids, man… She succinctly explained everything without any prompt. Makes sense, though, I would be most suspicious of a girl moving in without at least ten pairs of shoes.

“Thank you for explaining everything.” I nod in thanks to her. Her eyebrows twitch up. Oh, right, servants are invisible and don’t get thanks from nobles, do they? I must seem like a serious idiot.

She bows deeply to me.

“Excuse this old maid for speaking out of line; but I feel you’ll be quite a fine pair, huhu… and if I may be so bold as request a favour; please treat Lady Corwin well. She is not exactly book-smart or wise, but you will find her brave, and to have a heart of gold if you merely dig a little. Being a bird in a cage has never been her calling; so, you have my thanks for offering her a life with some freedom.”

I almost feel like I choke up that such a simple request might be considered out of line. Its just common sense. Ah. I see; this woman is probably her main carer in her family. Well. I don’t want to disappoint her.

“You have my solemn vow that I will never treat her with cruelty.” I say, nodding to her.

The maid, who has still not named herself, rises, with a small smile.

“That is all I ask. Thank you for granting it.”

She bows deeply once more, steps back twice, turns, and then gets into the car, starting the engine.

I take the cases up the stairs, and go off into the bedroom. As I get there, Lapis is still stood stock still, her original case next to her.

“Lapis?” I ask, popping my cases down with a thump.

She leaps like a cat suddenly discovering a cucumber, bowling over the case she brought herself and tripping herself up. Her arms flail and she hoots in distress before falling into my arms as I rush to catch her.

She really is a klutz. My gosh.

But looking at that face, transfixed in horror as her brain catches up with what just happened, I can only worry for my mental health. There is only so much cute, vulnerable behaviour a man can tolerate.

And yet; it’s a drug I find myself already hopelessly addicted to, and like a true addict, I don’t want it to stop.