“I mean, like a shower—” I started to get nervous.

Because that was what I did when I panicked—dug myself a bigger hole. In this case, a dirty, shameful one.

“What kind of shower?!” he asked loudly, almost unable to breathe.

“Not that kind!” I rolled my eyes. “Fuck!”

I was mortified.

“And you judged my kink?”

“This is not a kink.” I vigorously shook my head.

“Hey, that’s cool. We all have them,” he said, raising his arms, pretending to surrender.

“I’m never taking a shower with you after this.”

“Now, there’s no need to be vindictive.” He’d turned rather serious, which utterly amused me.

We finished the rest of our bagels in silence, occasionally catching each other’s eyes.

“Another one?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“There are thirty-two bagels in this bag,” I said, pointing down at it.

“I know.” He took my coffee cup from me and placed it next to our phones on the nightstand. “Later.” He removed the bag from my grip and set it aside in between folds in the duvet.

Clawing his hands on the plushy fabric, it slowly slid from over my lap. He leaned in, cupping my face with his hands, and gave me the softest kiss I’d ever experienced.

We had sex all morning.

*

“Where do you keep the pans?” I asked as we both stood in the kitchen.

“No idea,” Ethan said. “We usually just order in.”

“You order in?”

“Usually. I don’t think we’ll find much food here, to be honest.”

I rolled my eyes and walked over to the refrigerator, then opened it to find it bare. Lots of beer, a bottle of white wine, orange juice, and some fruit.

I turned to him. “Are you kidding me?”

“Dad only shops during the weekend, and he doesn’t cook much.”

“What about you?”

“I can cook. Now, cooking well is another matter.”

I sighed. “Okay, try finding something we can turn into lunch.”

“Such as?”

“I dunno,” I said, looking around to find a saucepan. “Just anything you can get some nutrients from.”

“Found it!” he was swift to say, raising both eyebrows at me.

I smiled and tilted my head.

“Okay, okay.” He bent down to open the bottom drawer of the fridge.

I filled the kettle with water and put it on the stove, then searched the cupboards. How could anyone live like this?

“Um—” Ethan mumbled. “Baby carrots…”

“Okay…”

“One onion…”

“Jesus.”

“Olives…” he said, turning to face me. “So, martinis?” He smiled.

“Well, it’ll have to do.”

“Oh, wait,” he said. “Three tomatoes!”

“Great. Get the tomatoes, the onion, and the carrots.”

“Here, babe,” he said, and I turned on the spot.

I didn’t know why it made me hesitate, hearing that. He held the items I’d asked for but seemed equally confused at what he’d said. As though he hadn’t really meant to in the first place.