"Sure. She’s fine. I could think of worse people to be married to."
"Nope. Youlike-like her, Ave. I don’t care how hard you try to deny it. You forget I know you. Lying would be useless."
I stare at him, long and hard, while I wait for him to say literally anything else.
But he doesn’t. And neither do I.
Instead, I head for the register with my cart full of ingredients I could’ve found at Whole Foods.
Eggs, potatoes, fish, and olives.
So why the hell am I here?
Why does it feel like this dish matters more than it should?
Why do I care if she likes it?
Fuck.
***
I’ve put candles on my dining table three times…and taken them off within thirty seconds of placing them down.
I’m allergic to ambience, it seems.
I think I’m panicking, and it's very unlike me.
Dating? I can handle that. But this? This is way out of my comfort zone. I’m honestly surprised I’m even going through with it.
I shove the candles into the junk drawer in my kitchen—final decision made just in time—then check the oven as I pass, because apparently I’m now someone who gives a shit about timing.
Olive’s four minutes away.
I’ve had this dish once.One time. And yet, I still vividly remember how it tastes.
The smell coming from the oven, though? Yeah, I’ve destroyed it.
Lucky for me, Olive’s never had Bacalhau à Brás before. So I’m either about to ruin the dish for her permanently…orI’ve somehow nailed it, and this is the only version she’ll ever want.
My phone pings, telling me the car’s almost here. My palms sweat instantly, and my heart’s pounding so hard I can hear it in my throat.
All because of a girl.
She knocks.
I immediately decide we’re going out. Forget the cod, forget the candles, forget my entire plan. This was a terrible idea anyway.
I’ll take her somewhere nice for our first official date as a married couple.
That seems more romantic.
When I open the door, she’s standing there with a small bag at her side. Her gorgeous eyes—bright, alive—still look bone-deep exhausted. Like she hasn’t slept more than a few hours in days.
"Hi," she says with a smile, her voice soft and sweet.
Definitely tired.
"Hi."I pick the bag up beside her and usher her into my apartment.
