Sean glances at the bags. “What did you do?”
“Food shopping.”
“Eric…”
“Your fridge isn’t the only thing that’s sad.”
“You shouldn’t have.”
I shrug, unpacking the shopping from the bags.
“I don’t know what you both like, so I just guessed. I got ice cream, too – I thought Mila might need it.”
“I’m sure she’ll really appreciate that, but…”
I look at Sean, who seems embarrassed.
“But I’ve overstepped the mark.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Do you want me to leave?”
“What I want doesn’t matter right now.”
“I don’t want to stay if you don’t want me here.”
“I wish it were that simple, believe me.”
“It actually is.” The voice of Sean’s sister floats in from the living room, where she’s sitting.
“Mila,” he says, agitated. “You’re awake.”
“And I heard everything.”
She gets up and walks over to us, glancing at the food on the table before turning back to me.
“Thank God you don’t know what we like!”
I laugh, and Sean relaxes.
“So, is all this stuff just going to magically find its way into the fridge?” Mila says.
“Of course not.” Sean picks up the ice cream and puts it away in the freezer.
“I don’t have to go to work,” I start. “Not until three o’clock this afternoon.”
Sean turns to me. The sense of hope I find in his eyes warns me to stop, right now; to put an end to this thing I’m starting.
“I’d like to cook for you both, if that’s okay.”
“Are you sure?”
I know he’s not asking me whether I want to cook; I know that behind his question and his fears are a lot of words that he doesn’t dare to say, scared they might be the same to mine.
“I am.”
So I lie. Shamelessly. I have no idea what I’m doing or what will happen, but I know I’m not ready to back out yet.
