He must have seen that in my expression, because he apologized again. “I’m not making a very good first impression, I’m afraid.”
“Not really.”
Coop shook his head, looking amused. “You’re supposed to say, ‘That’s okay. I forgive you’.”
With a shrug, I asked, “Do you want coffee? Or something to eat? I was about to make breakfast, such as it is.”
“Sure. They didn’t feed us on the plane, unless you call a granola bar food.”
“You won’t get much better from me. I’ve got bagels, or bagels with your choice of butter or honey.”
“Both?”
“I can manage that.” I went into the kitchen to start the coffee and toast the bagels. “One or two? Plain or blueberry?”
“Two, one each, if you don’t mind.”
I toasted four, two of each, buttered them, then put them on plates that I set on the kitchen table, along with cups of coffee and the honey.
“Looks good. But then I’m starving,” Coop said from the doorway, before coming in and sitting.