“Sure.”
I open the door wider and he peeks in, his grin turning to a frown for a moment. “I see you found the boxes?”
“I did. Thank you.”
I should tell him that one box brought back a memory, but I hold back that information. I feel as though I’m slowly torturing him on some level by making him relive our life—the same one I chose to walk away from.
So instead, I smile and follow him to the kitchen, where I help him make eggs for what I think is the first time. I have no idea why my old self had such a problem doing this because I enjoy cooking with Adam. Especially when I get cocky and think I can crack the egg over the pan instead of the bowl and end up with more shell than egg.
Because he laughs.
And Adam’s got a great laugh. I hope I appreciated it then as much as I do now.