“Are you trying to say, ‘Why buy the whole cow when you get the milk for free?'"
“See? Shut up!" I shout through a belly laugh.
“Fine. Would it make you feel better if I burned the sauce?" he asks, lifting the wooden spoon out of the pot.
“No, no, you can be less perfect once you're done cooking."
“Deal."
I pull in a deep breath before divulging information I don't share with many people. “My last boyfriend and I dated for a year, but I refused to put a label on us because I’m scarred by my parents' ten-year-long divorce that destroyed my teenage years. After witnessing so much fighting and hatred, I couldn't fathom the thought of feeling the same pain in any capacity. Anyway, when I agreed to put a ‘label' on us, he broke up with me a month later because ‘something better came up.' I was heartbroken and lost the desire to put myself through a relationship again."
“He sounds like a dick," Wesley sneers. “I'm sure he has since realized what he lost. Women like you don't come around every day."
“Eh, he might have thought otherwise, but that’s his loss.”
“Maddy, guys like that don't have their lives figured out yet, trust me. The eyes see what the heart feels, and it's different for every single person. P.S. … that was in the book you threw across the room. You should finish reading it." He points the spoon at me to make a point, and I think he might be right and I might be okay with labeling us.
“Maybe someday I could give it another try. What's the worst that can happen, right?" I suggest.
“The worst thing that could happen is that you will find the best things in life when you think positively." I want to remind him of his current milkman status, but I'll let him have this one.
