We scowled at each other for about three seconds before I saw a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Fair enough,” he said, and his trace of a smile was already gone. He started to slide the glass door open, and then he turned and said, “Whatever I buy, you can eat.”
“Same here,” I said.
That almost-smile again. “You can keep your Pop-Tarts and your Funyuns and your Kraft mac and cheese all to yourself.”
“Hey, I eat other stuff besides just junk,” I protested.
“Sure you do,” he said, and he went inside.
The next morning, the cereal box was out on the counter again. This time, I helped myself to his cereal and to his skim milk, and I even cut up a banana to put on top. It wasn’t half bad.
Conrad was turning out to be a pretty good housemate. He always put the seat back down on the toilet, he did his dishes right away, he even bought more paper towels when we ran out. I wouldn’t have expected any less, though. Conrad had always been neat. He was the exact opposite of Jeremiah in that way. Jeremiah never changed the roll of toilet paper. It would never occur to him to buy paper towels or to soak a greasy pan in hot water and dishwashing soap.
I went to the grocery store later that day and bought stuff for dinner. Spaghetti and sauce and lettuce and tomato for a salad. I cooked it around seven, thinking, ha! This will show him how healthily I can eat. I ended up overcooking the pasta and not rinsing the lettuce thoroughly enough, but it still tasted fine.
Conrad didn’t come home, though, so I ate it alone in front of the TV. I did put some leftovers on a plate for him, though, and I left it on the counter when I went up to bed.
The next morning, it was gone and the dish was washed.
chapterthirty-one
The next time Conrad and I spoke to each other, it was the middle of the day and I was sitting at the kitchen table with my wedding binder. Now that we had our guest list, the next thing I needed to do was mail off our invitations. It almost seemed silly to bother with invitations when we had so few guests, but a mass e-mail didn’t feel quite right either. I got the invitations from David’s Bridal. They were white with light turquoise shells, and all I had to do was run them through the printer. And poof, wedding invitations.
Conrad opened the sliding door and stepped into the kitchen. His gray T-shirt was soaked in sweat, so I guessed he’d gone for a run. “Good run?” I asked him.
“Yeah,” he said, looking surprised. He looked at my stack of envelopes and asked, “Wedding invitations?”
“Yup. I just need to go get stamps.”
Pouring himself a glass of water, he said, “I need to go into town and get a new drill at the hardware store. The post office is on the way. I can get your stamps.”
It was my turn to look surprised. “Thanks,” I said, “but I want to go and see what kind of love stamps they have.”
He downed his water.
“Do you know what a love stamp is?” I didn’t wait for him to answer. “It’s a stamp that says ‘love’ on it. People use them for weddings. I only know because Taylor told me I had to get them.”
Conrad half smiled and said, “We can take my car if you want. Save you a trip.”
“Sure,” I said.
“I’m gonna take a quick shower. Give me ten minutes,” he said, and ran up the stairs.
Conrad was back downstairs in ten minutes, just like he said. He grabbed his keys off the counter, I slid my invitations into my purse, and then we headed out to the driveway.
“We can take my car,” I offered.
“I don’t mind,” he said.
It felt sort of funny sitting in the passenger seat of Conrad’s car again. His car was clean; it still smelled the same.
“I can’t remember the last time I was in your car,” I said, turning on the radio.
Without missing a beat, he said, “Your prom.”
Oh, God.
Prom. The site of our breakup—us fighting in theparking lot in the rain. It was embarrassing to think of it now. How I had cried, how I had begged him not to go. Not one of my finest moments.
