Chapter Eighteen
One of the grocerysacks slipped from Aubrey's grasp. She leaned against the door to keep the eggs from breaking. "Serge!"
He stuck his head around the corner and lunged for the bag. "Got it."
"Whew." She laughed. "Breakfast tomorrow is saved."
He peered inside. "What did you buy?"
"Everything." She walked past him on the way to the kitchen. "There are more groceries in the car. I took stock of your cabinets and pantry last night. It was in bad shape. From now on we're eating at home if I'm staying here at night."
"Home, huh?" He looked inside a bag and pulled out a sack of rice.
"You know what I mean." She moved the egg carton out of the way. "Speaking of my home, I need to go over there and clean out my fridge. The food is probably spoiling. I should've thought of that and taken it to the food pantry so it wouldn't go to waste."
After one full week of staying with Serge every night, she refused to order food in again. She picked up the brick of cheese and put it in the fridge.
He lifted a box of noodles and shook the container. "Do you like to cook?"
"Yeah." She closed the fridge. "It's relaxing to me and healthier than eating in restaurants. Haven't you paid attention to the statistics? Everyone's cholesterol is sky high these days because of processed food. Think of eating at home as extending your life."
He growled or groaned, she wasn't sure. She turned around. "What?"
"I never think about what'll happen tomorrow." He opened a bag of chocolate chips she'd bought and ripped it open. After pouring some in his mouth, he grinned. "Half the time, I'm surprised I'm still alive."
She hid the hurt his confession caused. "I'll go out and get the other–"
"Stay. I'll get the groceries." He dug a few more chocolate bits out of the bag and winked. "I'm hungry. I hope you bought more junk food."
"We're going healthy. I'll get started on dinner once I have everything put away." She carried a sack to the pantry.
Hidden from his view, she stacked the supplies she had bought and stepped back to admire the cozy scene before her. How ironic to plan for a future with Serge when he had no idea she belonged in his tomorrow. She understood his way of dealing with life and not worrying about clogging his arteries, but he wasn't alone anymore. He included her in his day-to-day life and his tomorrow, whether he admitted it or not.
She was getting used to having him in her life. He'd given her things she always dreamed about.
No one touched her while she was growing up. No hugs, no goodnight kisses, no lingering hand on her forehead when she got sick. Whether Serge showed her a firm hand or held her tenderly at night, a touch was still a touch.
