Page 88 of Heartbeat

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“Where do you keep the pans?” I asked as we both stood in the kitchen.

“No idea,” Ethan said. “We usually just order in.”

“You order in?”

“Usually. I don’t think we’ll find much food here, to be honest.”

I rolled my eyes and walked over to the refrigerator, then opened it to find it bare. Lots of beer, a bottle of white wine, orange juice, and some fruit.

I turned to him. “Are you kidding me?”

“Dad only shops during the weekend, and he doesn’t cook much.”

“What about you?”

“I can cook. Now, cooking well is another matter.”

I sighed. “Okay, try finding something we can turn into lunch.”

“Such as?”

“I dunno,” I said, looking around to find a saucepan. “Just anything you can get some nutrients from.”

“Found it!” he was swift to say, raising both eyebrows at me.

I smiled and tilted my head.

“Okay, okay.” He bent down to open the bottom drawer of the fridge.

I filled the kettle with water and put it on the stove, then searched the cupboards. How could anyone live like this?

“Um—” Ethan mumbled. “Baby carrots…”

“Okay…”

“One onion…”

“Jesus.”

“Olives…” he said, turning to face me. “So, martinis?” He smiled.

“Well, it’ll have to do.”

“Oh, wait,” he said. “Three tomatoes!”

“Great. Get the tomatoes, the onion, and the carrots.”

“Here, babe,” he said, and I turned on the spot.

I didn’t know why it made me hesitate, hearing that. He held the items I’d asked for but seemed equally confused at what he’d said. As though he hadn’t really meant to in the first place.

“Too weird?” he asked, frowning.

“No. I mean, yeah, I wasn’t really expecting it—”

“Me, either. It just slipped out—” he said apologetically.

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