Matthew was stunned. "Pumpkin spice latte? Spice in a latte? What the hell?" he thought in disbelief. "That's evil!"

Valerie grimaced when Matthew pushed the latte away. "Mr. Grant," she recommended, "try the egg sandwich. It'll blow your mind!"

Matthew refused. A breakfast wrap was his limit. Oily foods weren't breakfast, in his opinion. After the pumpkin spice latte incident, he was wary of everything she offered, losing trust in her food recommendations.

After he finished his novel (the word "drama" seems out of place here, and should be removed unless there's a more specific context), Valerie, having retrieved her hand, ate the remaining egg sandwich. She had a small mouth but a large appetite. After two egg sandwiches, she consumed two hash browns and a pumpkin spice latte.

Matthew wondered, "How on earth does she stay fit?" Then he realized he'd finished his entire breakfast wrap. He'd indulged, but it was the healthiest option available. Anticipating a junk food breakfast from Valerie the next day, he said, "The breakfast wrap's good. Let's have it again tomorrow."

"Okay," Valerie agreed. She didn't have much housework; Matthew had a housekeeper weekly. Buying breakfast was the least she could do.

She was surprised he could afford a weekly housekeeper, but then reasoned his job as a driver probably paid well, given his boss's Porsche. With their busy work schedules, a housekeeper made sense.

While cleaning the table, Valerie said, "I took a day off, so I'll move in later."

Matthew replied, "Then I can't help you. I have to work."

"Don't worry," Valerie answered. "I know the password—1 through 8. It's hard to forget," she thought, "This is obviously a new apartment."

Matthew, seeming to guess her thoughts, cleared his throat awkwardly. "I bought this apartment long ago, for marriage. After we registered, I bought some furniture. You can buy anything you like after you move in. I'll pay."

He handed her a bank card. "There's $10,000. You can decide on smaller purchases; let me know about larger items."

Valerie wanted to refuse. "You don't have to do this, Mr. Grant," but Matthew's darkened expression made her accept. It felt like when Julian had given her money, forcing her to accept, but this wasn't Julian, and she didn't want to take advantage.

She pondered, then said, "How about this? I'll pay for smaller items. For larger purchases, I'll use this card." She thought: "I'm moving out in six months, so it's fair he pays for the larger items I can't take. I'll cover smaller things and daily expenses—no freeloading. Seems fair."

Matthew was surprised by her insistence on splitting the cost. She was stubborn, despite her gentle appearance.

After breakfast, Matthew grabbed his briefcase and left for work. At the door, Valerie said, "It's going to rain. Take an umbrella."

He did. As she walked to the parking lot, he felt like a normal couple discussing family matters over breakfast.

Entering his Mini, he frowned. His head bumped the roof; his long legs were cramped. Adjusting the seat was useless. He muttered impatiently, "Damn, Charles has short legs!" (This seems to be a frustrated comment about the car's small size, rather than an insult to someone named Charles).

12:16 PM