She chews on her lip. “I can’t cook.” “Neither can I.” I take a step toward her. “We’ll take lessons. We’ll order takeout. I really don’t give a shit as long as I’m eating my meals with you.” She leans farther into the counter as I close the distance between us. “I’ll take out the trash, and you can close the lid on the toilet seat when I inevitably leave it up. I won’t even be mad at you when you yell at me about it. You’ll water the plants because they’ll die if I touch them, and I’ll mow the lawn. You’ll decorate the house, and I’ll hang things on the wall.” I brace my arms on either side
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