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"Okay, what do you want me to do?" Edward asked.
"You could slice the zucchini?"
"What are we cooking, anyway?"
Bella shrugged.
"I was thinking a vegetable stir-fry?"
"No meat?" His face fell, and he looked like a disappointed boy. He was too sweet when he let his guard down. "Not even chicken?"
"Well, we didn't buy any… And I'm a vegetarian."
"Oh."
He started cutting the zucchini while Bella took care of the bell pepper, ginger, onion, eggplant and carrots.
She wondered whether she should offer to open the bottle of wine.
"You eat very healthily, don't you?" He looked at her from his spot next to her. A strand of hair had fallen into his eyes, and she had to make a conscious effort to not push it out of his face.
It was not a date – definitely not a date – but it felt like one. Awkward and careful, and somewhat tense.
"I guess so." She looked down on her cutting board, fearing that he was headed at her least favourite subject.
True, she had overcome her problems, but there would probably never come a time in her life when eating would be entirely easy.
"Um, do you want me to open the wine?" she diverged.
"Okay."
She poured two glasses.
"Thanks." He rubbed the back of his neck and took a sip. "Mmm, it's good."
"Do you know a lot about wine?"
"More than I know about cooking." He smiled, and it was somewhat self-deprecating. "Do you?"
"Not one bit," she admitted. "But it tastes nice."
"Well, that's what counts, isn't it?"
Thirty minutes later, their dinner was ready and they sat down on pillows on opposing sides of Bella's coffee table – her kitchen was too small to eat there. Edward seemed to be okay with it though, and dug into his food. She had cooked some rice to go with it, and liberally seasoned it with curry, and he nodded when he took his first bite.
"It's delicious, Bella."
"Thank you."
For a few minutes, they ate in silence.
"Are you going to see your family tomorrow?" she asked, remembering he'd told her that it was a Sunday tradition.
He nodded, his mouth full. Bella was finishing her plate, which hadn't been as full as his in the first place.
"Yes," he said when he'd swallowed. "My sister already called twice to remind me." He chuckled, and Bella joined in because he rolled his eyes and made a funny, embarrassed face.
And then, just like that, they fell into easy conversation about nothing in particular, comparing favourite books and films. Edward told her about his travels, and she was quite eager to hear about New York and Chicago and San Francisco.
Edward on the other hand, was curious about her studies, and about the different languages she spoke, asking her to say, "My friend Edward is exhibiting his paintings in this city," in French and Dutch and German.
Her heart was pounding at the my friend part, although she knew it was silly. What else would he call her?
His non-date, who he'd gone to after visiting his wife's grave? With whom he was currently sitting on the floor, for crying out loud, because her flat was so tiny?
"Mein Freund Edward zeigt seine Gemälde in dieser Stadt," she finished the task.
Edward grinned and took another sip of wine.
"And how do I know that you didn't say that I'm an exhibitionist?"
"Trust me."
"Okay, Bella."
He looked at her thoughtfully.
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