Page 19 of Some Things Never Change

“Aren’t you supposed to offer to help me out with them?”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Aren’t these plants your kids?”

“Yeah, but you can be a good Auntie and lend a helping hand, too. I’m sure they’ll love the attention.”

I laughed. “If you insist, then sure. But I can’t guarantee anything either. My cactus died on me last—” My stomach suddenly let out a loud whine, interrupting me.

He shook his head with a wide grin on his face. “Enough chit chat about your dead cactus. You need to eat. Your stomach keeps growling.”

I blushed at the comment as I glanced over at the plates of spaghetti already on the dining table. There was even a block of fresh parmesan cheese and a grater on a plate on the side.

“What did you want to drink? I have red and white wine, flavored sparkling water, orange juice, and water.” Andy opened his fridge to grab a can of flavored sparkling water and turned to me.

“Just water please,” I said. Then I glanced at his electric kettle. “Since when do you own an electric kettle?”

“Actually, it’s new. It’d be easier to make tea with one of those, right?”

“It’s definitely better than microwaving hot water.”

“There’s a whole drawer of tea over there too, by the way.” Andy smiled and pointed to somewhere near where the electric kettle was.

“You drink tea?” I felt myself staring back at him, completely bewildered.

Hot tea is usually the first thing I like to drink in the morning, whether it be winter or summer. I love it. But Andy? Not so much.

His face contorted into a disgusted expression. “Tea? Of course not! I’m fine with black and green tea, but herbal tea? Hell no. That stuff tastes like ass. I literally bought it all just for you. Check the drawer to see if you like any of the flavors I got you.”

I walked over to the drawer he motioned to. I pulled it back to reveal all sorts of expensive and fancy tin cans of loose leaf teas, from black to green and herbal. There was an ever bigger selection of herbal teas and of flavors and brands I didn’t even know existed because I usually drank whatever cheap, off-brand teas I could find at the grocery store since I go through it quickly.

“I know you love tea, but I wasn’t sure if you liked any other kinds of herbal teas besides green tea and chamomile. So, I just grabbed the ones I thought you might like. Drink whatever you want. They’re all for you anyway.”

“Wait, what?” I looked over at him with a gaping mouth as he came up to me and handed me a tall glass of water.

Andy laughed. “All the tea is yours. Enjoy it.” He popped open his fizzy canned drink and sipped it as he leaned against the kitchen counter, watching me.

“Hold on, you’re telling me that you bought me a plethora of teas just because I like it?”

“And the electric kettle.”

Andy walked over to the dining table with a shrug. He sounded so casual and nonchalant about how he bought me a brand-new electric kettle and a whole drawer of teas. This man didn’t even drink tea, and yet he went out of his way to do this. My chest swelled.

“Thanks, Andy. You didn’t need to.”

He gave me an easy smile. “It’s okay. I prepped in advance, since you always drink that nasty herbal stuff when you’re not heading out of the house.”

I filled up the empty electric kettle and started boiling the water. “That’s really sweet of you, Andy.”

“It’s fine. Just glad you’re living with me and putting that kettle to good use.”

I took my place across from him at his small dining table once I had a hibiscus raspberry tea ready. I let it steep as I grated a mountain of parmesan cheese on top of my spaghetti.

“Jesus, Tink. You practically grated half the block of cheese.”

I let out a few snickers before taking a bite of pasta. I let out a low moan, dramatically throwing back my head. “Andy, this is always so good. You need to give me the recipe.”

He laughed, half embarrassed and half amused, as pink dusted his cheeks. “Why? I can just make it for you whenever you want to eat it.”

I grinned at him, feeling a flutter in my stomach at the thought of him making this whenever I craved it. I’d never had anyone offer to cook for me like this aside from my mom or Auntie Gao. I took another bite of my spaghetti, feeling nostalgic of a time when Andy didn’t know how to cook as well as he did now.

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