Page 38 of Friends with Benefits

But she haseyes.

“Do we need to make any more trips?”

Evie blinks, then shakes her head. “That’s everything.”

Silence—stillness—settles between them. Evie and Theo have been in a state of motion, propelled by to-do lists and logistics and cardboard boxes. But that’s everything. There’s nothing left to do. They can stand still. Be married. Whatever that even means.

Theo swallows. “Cool. Well. I’m going to shower, then start dinner.”

“Can I help?”

“I am perfectly capable of taking a shower, Evelyn.”

She shoves his shoulder, ignores his teasing smirk. “Withdinner.”

Theo laughs, waving her offer away as he exits the room. “Please don’t.”

Fair enough.

Evie falls backward onto the queen mattress on the floor in the middle of the room, relieved that she doesn’t have to pretend she wants to cook, or evencancook. Theo cooks. Evie eats, then cleans.Please don’t.Another assurance that nothing has changed. She could use a shower as well, so she stands and peels herself out of the tank top and bike shorts that are stuck to her skin, unzips the duffel bag that contains her toiletries, and enters her en suite bathroom. Honestly, the bathroom situation in this unit couldn’t be more ideal, something always top of mind when choosing a place to live. This apartment has two full bathrooms, one in the hallway off the kitchen, the other in the primary bedroom. Initially, she insisted that Theo be the one to move into the much more spacious room that Micah and Pranav once occupied.

She knew he wouldn’t.

Evie twists the faucet and keeps the water just shy of warm, then steps into the cool porcelain tub, grateful for the privacy as her mind wanders down the hall, to Theo in the shower, to a scenario where she ishelping him shower, lathering his chest with eucalyptus soap, because as Jules constantly reiterates in therapy, Evie’s thoughts are justthoughts. She’s allowed them.

It’s not like she’d ever act on them.

After, she emerges from her room in a tank top with a built-in bra and basketball shorts, her laptop tucked under her arm. In the kitchen, Nighttime Theo,GlassesTheo, is sautéingvegetables on the stove. Tomatoes. Red onion. Yellow pepper. Evie takes a seat on a barstool at the island, reaching for a diced pepper and popping it in her mouth.

“Is a vegan pasta primavera okay?”

Is that okay?

“More than okay, Theodore.”

“Good, because I already made the sauce.”

Dinners without Theo are basic and boring and safe—tofu over rice, a spinach and tomato omelet, maybe lemon chicken from the Trader Joe’s freezer section and a baked sweet potato if she’s feeling fancy. After her Crohn’s diagnosis, food became exhausting. After some trial and error via a low-FODMAP elimination diet, she learned what foods triggered symptoms and stuck to a handful of simple, tried-and-true recipes, not having the energy or patience to branch out, refusing to invest any more time thinking about food.

But Theo likes to cook.

Believes the time invested in preparing a meal is worthwhile.

Knows the list of foods that are incompatible with Evie’s body.

She watches the ease with which he moves through the kitchen, tossing a dish towel over his shoulder as he sautés. Thirsty, she stands and opens the fridge stocked with every Evie Bloom staple—almond milk with a hint of honey, Tofutti cream cheese, and even her favorite brand of cashew-based yogurt. In remission, her diet is less restrictive than during a flare, but dairy is, sadly, always a firmno. This morning, she nearly teared up seeing a fuckingyogurtbecause it just… it means so much, that he cooks for her, that he fills a fridge with things she can eat, that she’s able to actually enjoy food because of him.

She pulls two pamplemousse LaCroixs from the fridge, placing one on the counter next to the stove for him, knowing he won’t pop the tab until he’s done cooking.

“Thanks.”

Evie returns to her seat and opens her laptop, the web browser still on IKEA. Since Pep and Mo refused to accept rent while Evie occupied the bungalow, she was able to save. Nota lot—there were still so many medical bills and student loan payments—but enough to take a risk on a low-paying fellowship.

Enough, she thought, for furniture.

Her eyes widen.

Then she slams her laptop shut, overwhelmed by the number of choices on her screen and thecostof each choice.

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