Copyright 2018 by Colleen Hoover

Chicken and dumplings.
It was the fifth meal I cooked after living in our new house for two weeks.
It’s the only meal Jeremy ever threw against the dining room wall.
I’d known for several days that he was upset with me. I just didn’t know
why. We were still having sex almost every day, but even the sex felt different.
Like he was disconnected. Fucking me because it was our routine and not
because he craved me.
That’s the reason I decided to cook the goddamn dumplings in the first place.
I was trying to be nice by making one of his favorite meals. He was having a
hard time adjusting to his new job. To make matters worse, he was upset with
me for putting the girls in daycare without consulting him first.
Back in New York, we hired a nanny as soon as my books started selling.
She would show up every morning when Jeremy left for work so that I could
retreat to my office and write every day. Then she’d leave when Jeremy came
home, and I’d come out of my office and we’d cook dinner together.
It was a great setup, I’ll admit. I never had to care for them when Jeremy
wasn’t around because we had the nanny. But out here, in the middle of
nowhere, nannies are hard to come by. I tried watching them myself the first two
days, but that was beyond exhausting, and I wasn’t getting any writing done. So,
one morning last week, I was so fed up, I drove them into town and enrolled
them into the first daycare I came across.
I knew Jeremy didn’t like it, but he realized we had to do something if we
both wanted to continue to work. I was more successful than he was, so if
anyone was going to stay home and care for them during the day, it certainly
wasn’t going to be me.
But the girls being in daycare wasn’t what was bothering him. He seemed to
like the interaction they were getting with other children, because he couldn’t
shut up about it. But we had discovered a few months earlier that Chastin had a
severe allergy to peanuts, so Jeremy was cautious. He didn’t want anyone caring
for her but us. He was afraid the daycare would be careless, even though Chastin
was the kid I actually liked. I wasn’t stupid. I made sure they knew all about her

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allergy.
Whatever it was that had him irritated with me, I was positive it was
something a bowl of dumplings and a good fuck would help him forget.
I intentionally started dinner late that night so the girls would be in bed when
we ate. They were only three, so luckily, they were tucked in by seven. It was
almost eight when I set the table and called Jeremy to come and eat.
I tried to make it as romantic as possible, but it’s hard to make chicken and
dumplings sexy. I lit candles on the table and set up my playlist through the
wireless speakers. I had on clothes, but underneath them, I was wearing lingerie.
Something I didn’t do often.
I tried to make small talk with him as we ate.
“I think Chastin is fully potty trained now,” I said to him. “They’ve been
working with her at daycare.”
“That’s good,” Jeremy said, scrolling through his phone with one hand and
eating with the other.
I waited a moment, hoping whatever it was on his phone would take a back
seat to us. When it didn’t, I adjusted myself in my seat and attempted to grab his
attention again. I knew conversation about the girls was his favorite subject.
“When I picked them up today, the teacher said she’s learned seven colors
this week.”
“Who?” he said, finally making eye contact with me.
“Chastin.”
He stared at me, dropped his phone flat on the table, and took another bite.
What the fuck is his problem?
I could see the anger he was trying to stifle, and it made me nervous. Jeremy
never got upset, and when he did, I almost always knew why he was. But this
was different. It was coming out of left field.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I sat back in my chair and dropped my napkin on
the table. “Why are you mad at me?”
“I’m not mad.” He said it too fast.
I laughed. “You’re pathetic.”
He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. “Excuse me?”
I leaned forward. “Just tell me, Jeremy. Enough of this bullshit silent
treatment. Be a man and tell me what your problem is.”
His fists clenched and then unclenched. Then he stood up and slapped his
bowl, sending it across the table and all over the dining room wall. I had never
seen him lose his temper. I stiffened, wide-eyed, as he stomped out of the
kitchen.
I heard him slam our bedroom door. I looked at the mess and knew I’d have

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to clean it up after we made up so he’d know how much I appreciated him. Even