EPOV

Admittedly, I am not the best cook, nor am I great at being left alone for extended periods of time with nothing to occupy my attention. So, as I watch Bella get settled into the hammock in the loft with several books, a bottle of water, and her AirPods, I struggle with what I'm going to do for the afternoon.

I have my tablet with a ton of books downloaded but nothing that I'm terribly interested in reading right away. There's a bookshelf in the living room, and when I scan it, I find several cookbooks. I grab them, taking a seat on the couch, and begin flipping through. I'm a technical person; I'm certain I can find a recipe and follow it to make something edible.

Just when I think I've landed on something easy enough, I call up to Bella. "How well stocked is this place?"

I can hear her snort from fifteen feet above me. "Just go look for yourself."

Walking into the kitchen is weird, mostly because I rarely use mine. I eat cereal and frozen pizzas. I make smoothies and buy protein powder in bulk. Takeout is my main source of food, but she expects me to cook.

"Don't burn the place down, Edward." She can't see me, but I flip her off anyway. Opening the door to the fridge, I see there is way too much food for two people for the amount of time we'll be here. The freezer seems to be worse somehow. Moving back to the fridge, I see that someone elected not to throw some salmon steaks in the freezer, so those can be the main dish.

The crisper drawers are full of vegetables, but I know she's allergic to something. I just can't remember what exactly.

"What are you allergic to again? Being a nice person?"

"I'm allergic to strawberries … and your face." Jesus, she is the worst.

With an idea of what I'm making, I leave the kitchen, put the cookbooks away, and head to my bedroom to take a nap. I see a lot of rest this week just to stay away from her.

A couple hours later, I wake to the soft sounds of someone crying. As I sit up, I'm confused for a few minutes about where I am until I remember I'm stuck in a hell pit with my mortal enemy. Who is the only possible person crying. I stand, stretching, before walking out to climb into the loft, looking for Bella.

She's still nestled in the hammock, hands curled around her bright blue book, openly weeping. "Are you okay?"

She jumps a little, reaching up to wipe at her face. "What?"

"Did you fall out of the hammock, and I missed it? Are you somehow dying or something?" Leaning against the banister, I cross my arms, staring at her.

"Oh, no." She sucks in a breath. "I just finished my book, and it was really sad."

I can feel my lips quivering. "Is that all?"

"Don't make fun of me!"

"Isn't that book, like, ten years old?"

"Yeah, so?" She slips out of the hammock with more grace than I thought possible and brushes past me to walk down the stairs.

"I just mean, shouldn't you have already read it? Or know how it ends?"

She stops in her tracks and turns to glare at me. "Have you read it?"

"No. Guy on guy isn't really my thing." I laugh, hopping down the steps and moving past her into the kitchen.

"Oh, because we wouldn't want to offend your macho sensibilities. Don't be a homophobic prude, Edward." She follows me into the kitchen, and I turn to confront her.

"I get that you don't like me, but calling me homophobic is way uncalled for. I'm actually really offended by that," I tell her, and she has the wherewithal to look slightly ashamed.

"Well, I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that. I know you aren't." She tosses her book toward me, and I catch it deftly. "But you should read it. It's amazing, and if you don't cry … well, I already think you're a monster. So …" She shrugs and shuffles out of the kitchen.

"Whatever. Dinner's at six!"

"Yeah, great."

She disappears, and I flip through the book, rifling through the pages until I end up at the first chapter. I could knock a couple chapters out before I need to start cooking.

No big deal.