“Something came up.” I reach for the bread knife, resuming my task out of habit.
The soup continues to simmer on the stove, filling the kitchen with its rich aroma. The table is set for two, sunlight glinting off the spoons laid out beside cloth napkins I never use for everyday meals.
My shoulders tighten as I finish cutting the bread. A small sigh escapes me, the sound lost beneath the gentle bubbling of the soup.
“Well,” I say, trying to sound normal, “I guess this means more soup for us.”
Despite my best efforts, I can’t fight the creeping disappointment. I’d woken early with anticipation for today’s lesson, planning what techniques to teach next, imagining Leif’s quiet satisfaction when he mastered a new skill.
Now, it will be me alone. Which shouldn’t bother me. I spent almost a year puttering around this cottage alone before Jared moved in. This is a return to normal.
I place the knife in the sink with more force than necessary, and the metal clangs before it settles.
“It’s fine,” I say, though Jared hasn’t asked. “People cancel plans all the time.”
But as I reach to turn down the heat under the soup, I can’t ignore the weight settling behind my breastbone, heavier than simple disappointment should be.
Jared’s bare feet whisper across the kitchen tiles as he crosses to the knife block. He reaches for a clean knife and the block of cheddar I’d left out, and begins cutting thin slices.
“What are you doing?” I ask after a moment.
“Well, I can’t leave you to enjoy all this food by yourself, now can I?” He moves the slices onto the waiting plate. “Besides, I’m starving after smelling this all morning.”
I stir the soup, my fingers tight around the wooden spoon. “What about work?”
“I’ll catch the next water taxi.” As he speaks, he pulls out a phone to shoot a text to Kyle.
My shoulders hunch. “You don’t have to?—”
“Iwantto.” He kisses my cheek. “Come have an early lunch with me, Em.”
He carries the cheese plate to the table and returns for the bread, giving me space for my disappointment without letting it become the center of our morning. This is what I love about Jared, not only his presence, but his understanding of when to exist beside me without trying to fix or solve.
I turn off the burner and bring the soup to the table, setting it on the waiting trivet.
He leans forward to inhale and groans. “Smells so good.”
“It’s just soup.” The words come out flatter than I intend.
“No,just soupis when I open a can and microwave it.” Jared’s mouth quirks up at one corner. “Thisis love in a bowl.”
His honest appreciation soothes the jagged feeling inside me. He ladles the soup into our bowls and sets a thick slab of buttered bread onto the side plates.
“He was so excited to finish the shelves. And he seemed to enjoy being here,” I say into the silence, breaking off a piece of bread. “I worry about what happened to make him cancel.”
Jared’s head lifts, a question in his eyes.
“I used to have friends when I first met Auren,” I continue, dipping the bread into my soup. “People I used to hang out with after work. People who knew me before him.”
Jared stills, his spoon hovering over his bowl. I don’t often talk about Auren, and Jared doesn’t interrupt now with questions.
“He never told me I couldn’t see them,” I say. “But he… reacted. If I came home late, he was withdrawn when I got home.If I made plans without him, something always went wrong. He needed me. Or he’d had a bad day. Or he was worried about me being around people who didn’t understand us.”
I swallow past the tightness in my throat. “It was always framed like concern.”
Jared sets his spoon down.
“After a while, it became easier not to argue,” I admit. “Easier not to explain. I stopped reaching out because I didn’t want to deal with the fallout. And by the time I realized what had happened…” I trail off, staring into my bowl. “There was no one left.”