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I don’t say anything, but the comment lingers in my head anyway. Maybe because we do look like a couple walking together with Tilly. It should probably feel weirder than it does. But it doesn’t.

“We do look suspiciously domestic,” I admit, biting my cheek to keep from smiling.

He groans. “Please don’t say that.”

“Why? You don’t want people thinking we’re a cute little family?”

Ollie nearly trips over absolutely nothing.

“Relax.” I nudge his shoulder. “We just need matching outfits and one of those expensive beige diaper bags.”

“Stop.”

“Maybe a golden retriever,” I add, unable to resist.

Ollie drags a hand over his face before pointing an accusing finger at me without an ounce of conviction. “We’re not getting a dog, for fuck’s sake.”

“So we are a we now?”

His eyes widen. “You know what I meant.”

“Sure.” I keep my expression perfectly innocent.

“You’re enjoying teasing me way too much.”

“A little bit,” I admit with a shrug. “Don’t worry, I’m not actually expecting a puppy. I just enjoy watching you panic over what strangers think of us.”

We arrive at the grocery store and head straight for the produce section. I look for ingredients for guacamole, and Ollie picks some fresh greens, ripe tomatoes and a handful of herbs. I follow him as he weaves through the store, grabbing a few more ingredients along the way.

“What’s your favorite food?” he asks, putting a can of corn in the cart.

“Mexican food. Real Mexican food, not the sad excuse some places try to pass off.” I say and place avocados next to the other items. “Honestly, Southern California has some of the best outside Mexico itself.”

“That serious, huh?”

“You don’t understand. I take tacos very personally.”

“Then I can’t wait to try what you’re making us tonight.” Ollie pats his stomach.

“What’s your favorite meal?”

“I have always loved frozen waffles.”

I stop walking and stare at him. “That’s the most unexpected answer you could’ve given me.”

“What’s wrong with frozen waffles?”

“Nothing if you’re a twelve-year-old boy left home alone for the evening or a college graduate who doesn’t know how to cook,” I point out and grab a bag of bagels in the corner.

“You’re incredibly judgmental for someone obsessed with boy bands.”

“They’re cultural icons.”

“Sure, if you say so,” he says teasingly.

“How about candy? You like sweet things or are you more of a savory kind of guy?

“Give me Reese’s any day,” he answers immediately. “No hesitation. The best chocolate out there.”