I didn’t know what to expect and it scared me. Was she here to yell at me? Break up with me and start packing up her things? What if she wanted to keep the house and I would have to move back in with my parents?
“Hey,” I quietly replied.
“Is that my ice cream?” she asked, in a neutral tone that was hard to read.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry,” I put it down on the counter quickly.
“No, it’s okay. I was just messing with you,” she said, her voice matching the softness of mine now.
“Okay,” I simply responded. This was awkward. I was walking on eggshells—I didn’t want to make her angrier at me. Or even worse—say something stupid.
“So,” she started, carefully walking over to the island and sitting down. I followed suit and sat next to her, staring at my hands and preparing for the blow. “How was scho
