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The next morning, I stumbled out of the bedroom, the smell of burnt toast or something like it, waking me.
Elizabeth was standing at the counter, spreading peanut butter on half of a bagel. She glanced in my direction. “Thought you might sleep all morning.”
I ran a hand through my hair. “What time is it?”
“Seven,” she said, picking up the other bagel. “Other half is here if you want it.”
She wasn't home when I’d gotten home the night before, but she'd left me a note, saying she'd be back before midnight. There was even a heart above her name. It felt like some sort of detente.
I walked over, spread some peanut butter on the other toasted half, and picked it up. “Thanks.”
She nodded while she ate and we stood there next to one another, not speaking for a few minutes.
She wiped her hands on a napkin when she was done and screwed on the top to the peanut butter jar. She carried it to the pantry and put it back on the shelf.
She closed the door and then leaned against it. “I'm sorry about yesterday,” she said.
I waved her off. “No, I'm the one who needs to apologize. I overreacted, and I wasn't being fair. Not cool on my part.”
She tilted her head to the side. “I didn't mean to spring it on you. And your opinion matters to me. Obviously. I didn't mean I was going to pack up and move or anything like that.”
“I know that,” I said. “Now. 24 hours later. I'm sorry for getting so angry.”
“And I'm sorry for being insensitive,” she said. She folded her arms across her chest and cocked her head. “You wanna go run?”
Her words were music to my ears.
I shoved the rest of the bagel in my mouth. “Let me go change.”