Weeks passed before Ethan invited me over again. This time, he greeted me wearing an apron, with a delicious-smelling dinner simmering on the stove.
“Look at you!” I said.
He beamed.
“Dinner’s almost ready.”
I lifted the dish I’d brought.
“Apple pie.”
“Of course.”
“Where should I put it?”
He gestured toward the refrigerator. Inside were eggs, milk, vegetables, and leftovers, enough to provide several meals. The sight held me there unexpectedly long.
“Mom?”
I fought back tears.
“It’s nice to see you eating properly.”
“I’m actually saving money now. And I remembered how much I like cooking.”
“I’m glad.”
He paused.
“Sometimes I still feel embarrassed.”
I closed the refrigerator.
“You stood up for yourself. There’s nothing shameful about that.”
He nodded and took my hand, steering me toward the dining table.
“Sit down. I’ve got everything.”
“I can help.”
He smiled and shook his head.
