She laughed softly.
“You really can’t leave a serious conversation alone, can you?”
“I can. I just don’t enjoy watching someone I care about drown in one.”
Her eyes met mine.
For a second, neither of us looked away.
Then Sarah turned back to the counter.
“I should make dinner.”
“Excellent. I’ve been hoping to meet the woman responsible for that chicken.”
She shook her head, smiling.
And I went to wash my hands, trying not to think about the way she had looked at me.
The First Rule of Living Together
By the second week, we had established several household rules.
Sarah insisted that wet towels belonged on the rack.
I insisted that anyone who used the last of the coffee should replace it.
She believed in making the bed every morning.
I believed a bed was perfectly respectable as long as nobody could see it from the street.
