Page 35 of Happily Never After

“But aren’t you just getting cat food and milk?” she asked.

“No, that was a lie,” I said, grabbing a bag of grapes and setting them in the cart. “This is my monthly grocery run.”

“Wait—aren’t you going to taste one?” she asked, her eyebrows scrunching together as she looked at me like I’d just committed a crime.

“What?”

“The grapes,” she said, her eyes wide as if she was talking to a moron. “You’re not going to try one?”

“Before I buy them?”

“Yes,” she said, still giving me the same you’re-making-a-colossal-mistake look.

“Um, no, I am not, because they aren’t my grapes to try until I pay for them.” Was she serious? “You’re messing with me right now, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely not. You have to try them to know if they’re sour.”

“That’s theft.”

“That’s not.”

“Aren’t you in HR, Steinbeck? Aren’t rules your life’s work?” I supposed that was part of what made Sophie so damn interesting, the way I could never figure her out, but this one was blowing my mind a little. “You can’t tell me you’re a grape stealer, because I refuse to believe it.”

“It’s not stealing, it’s checking for ripeness,” she said, shaking her head as she took a grape from the bag and popped it into her mouth. “Mmm—these are good.”

“Now I’m going to have to tell the checkout clerk that I owe them for one additional grape.”

“Are you going to have them weighone grapeso they know how much to charge you?” she teased.

“I suppose I will.”

“I cannot wait to witness this absurdity.” Her lips slid all the way up into a huge smile that I really liked. “Also, you only get groceries once a month?”

“Sadly, yes. It’s never intentional, but that’s the way it shakes out.” I snagged a bag of spinach, a head of cauliflower, and a carton of mushrooms. “I purchase groceries with the best of intentions, but after a few days of careful eating, I get sick of cooking and slip into sandwiches and takeout for every meal.”

“Leaving your vegetables to die in the fridge?” she prompted.

“RIP this very spinach,” I said, dropping the bag into the cart. “It’s a terrible system.”

She grabbed a container of pineapple. I said, “I actually hate pineapple.”

“It’s not for you.”

“Who is it for?”

“Me.” She tilted her head and said, “If the eleven things I add to your cart are destined to die in your fridge, then I’m going to select eleven things thatIlike so I can save their lives by rescuing them from your bags and taking them home with me.”

“I don’t like tricky people, Steinbeck.”

“Says the man who tricked me into being his grocery shopper and delivery driver.”

“Fair.” I grabbed a handful of green peppers and set them in the cart.

“You’re not going to put those in a bag?”

“No.”

“Do you know how dirty grocery carts are?”

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