Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
There were no leftover boxes of takeout, beer, or gross, out-of-date things. I almost closed it, not sure what to do with all this. It reminded me of those intimidating grocery stores with the expensive organic food. Fresh berries in glass containers, a lot of freaking eggs, a bowl of red grapes, two metal baskets full of produce, an entire shelf of protein drinks, a drawer with fancy cheeses, a tall pitcher of orange juice, a gallon of milk, yogurts in small and expensive-looking containers, and a host of condiments. I reached for the milk and then looked at the three jars of homemade jams in the side door. Strawberry, blueberry, and peach. I took out the strawberry and closed the door very gently. God only knew what they’d paid for the dang thing.
I turned to study the area and figure out which cabinet out of the many they might keep the nonperishables in. After opening the obvious ones that were largest and having no luck, I wondered if the door that was in that small, odd, little room on the other side of the ovens—yes, plural—was where they put food.
The small room had a wine rack, a liquor cabinet, and what I thought was a food prepping area but no food. Shaking my head clueless as to why this space was needed, I turned to open the closed door on the other side of the wine rack. My mouth fell slightly open as the light came on automatically, and I stared into a room larger than the bathroom I was using. It was a food closet—no, a food room. A closet was too basic of a term for what this was. There were shelves, there were drawers, there were baskets that I thought were also drawers, and there were racks that spun around.
“Holy moly,” I breathed.
“Are you looking for something or just standing in here to gawk at the pantry?” Bane asked as he walked past me and went to one of the baskets, then plucked out a loaf of some kind of bakery bread. That had not come from a grocery store.
“This is a pantry?” I asked.
I’d heard of those before, but I’d never actually seen one. I thought a pantry was a closet with a door and just shelves. Not a room you could walk inside and sit for a spell.
He reached for something off another shelf, then looked at me. “What the fuck else would it be?”
“A corner market,” I muttered before I could stop myself.
“What?” he snapped.
“A corner market,” I said clearly this time.
He raised his eyebrows slightly and gave me an odd look before walking back toward the door once he found what he was looking for.
“Do you have cereal?” I asked before he left.
“Fifth shelf on the far right,” he replied.
I went over to the right side, and sure enough, on the fifth shelf were three different boxes of cereal. Two were shockingly healthy. One was Cocoa Puffs. I started to reach for the Cocoa Puffs but then stopped. That wasn’t the best choice for the baby, I realized. Scrunching my nose, I looked at the other two and decided that the one with the dried blueberries looked like the lesser of the two evils.
Once I was back in the kitchen, Bane was standing at the stove with a cup of coffee and cracking eggs into a bowl. He cooked for himself. He was just full of surprises.
I went to the cabinet I had found the bowls in earlier while I was looking for food and got one down. I just had to figure out where the spoons were now. I could ask, but he didn’t like to hear my voice, and he was busy.
I opened the first drawer to find potholders and closed it. The next one had hand towels. When I reached the third one, Bane stopped me.
“Here,” he said as he pulled out a drawer to his left.
Yeah, the one closest to him would have been the last drawer I’d tried. Heck, I might have just eaten the cereal with my hand before I had gone over there.
“Thanks,” I whispered and went to get a spoon.
The options in eating utensils were excessive. There were three sizes of forks and four different spoon sizes. Who needed all this? They were guys. I doubted they threw dinner parties.
“Is getting a spoon that complicated?” he asked.
I snatched out a regular-sized spoon and closed the drawer. It seemed to only require a push, and it slid slowly in on its own. Going over to my bowl, I filled it halfway with cereal, then added the milk before going to put it back in the fridge. I wanted to ask about the screen, but said nothing. It was as if I were living with Nick again. Not talking or doing anything to draw attention to myself.