Page 62 of Some Sort of Happy (Happy Crazy Love 1)
He went into the kitchen, flipped on the light and started rummaging around in the fridge. “Will you eat if I make something?”
“Sure. You cook?” Surprised, I went over to the little breakfast bar and sat on a stool.
“Yes.” After washing his hands, he pulled out a carton of eggs and a green bell pepper. “Are you impressed?”
I nodded. “Definitely.”
“Good.” He pulled two small tomatoes, a bag of shredded mozzarella cheese, and a package of bacon from the fridge. “Do you cook?”
I pursed my lips. “I’m more of a sous-chef.”
He grinned and grabbed milk, butter, and a bag of basil from the fridge before closing the door. “You can help.”
“OK.” Excited, I joined him in the kitchen, washing my hands at the sink. “What should I do?”
“Can you chop the basil and slice the tomatoes?”
“Sure. Knife?” I looked around for a knife block but didn’t see one.
“They’re in the cupboard above the fridge. I’ll get you one.”
“Why the hell are they up there?”
“No reason.” He opened the cupboard, and I saw the block tucked inside it.
Liar.
“Hey,” I said. “Bring the entire block down.”
He froze.
“I mean it. Get the whole thing.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose a second, but then he reached in and lifted the block down, setting it on the counter.
We both stared at it.
I pulled out the biggest butcher knife he had. “Take it.”
Grimacing, he took it from me and held it in his hand.
“Are you going to stab me?”
“No.”
“Good. Are you going to stab anyone, ever?”
“No.” He stared at the blade. “No, I’m not.”
“Then why do you have to keep your knives way the fuck up there?”
He shrugged. “Old habit.”
“Well, break it. If I ever come over to cook again, I need to be able to reach things. I’m high-cupboard challenged.”
He handed me the knife, taking a breath. “You’re right. I’ll move them down.”
“Thank you.” I located a cutting board and got to work, while he melted some butter in a pan on the stove.
