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For the first time in months, I woke up feeling rested. A delicious smell was coming from the kitchen. I got out of bed and walked outside. It took a moment to register what was happening. Owen was in my apartment, cooking; he looked at me, “Good morning! I made you some French toast. You didn’t have many groceries, so I stocked your fridge. And don’t worry, my mom said you were having an issue with a lot of food smells and gave me a list. Nothing in your fridge should make you sick.” Owen handed me a glass of milk and my prenatal vitamin. “Here, take a seat, and I will bring your plate over.”

He seems so happy. I want to ask him why he stayed here, but there’s food, and I am not one to be upset about that. Especially now when I eat for two. But where did he sleep last night? The second bedroom doesn’t have a mattress. He is twice the length of the couch. Did he sleep with me? Is that why I am

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Rebecca Jeane
He just won’t accept that he screwed up
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