“You absolute toaster-brained goblin,” Carla hissed, pointing her spatula at Jeremy like it was a sword forged in the fires of domestic rage. “You folded the laundry before the dryer was done.”

Jeremy blinked, holding a half-warm towel that was somehow both damp and aggressively wrinkled. “I thought it felt dry?”

“You also thought a raccoon was a stray dog and tried to pet it, Jeremy.”

“That raccoon had kind eyes.”

“That raccoon gave you a tetanus shot and emotional trauma.”

It was 7:32 AM. Carla was barefoot, sleep-deprived, and wearing a robe that hadn’t been washed since the invention of the Internet. Jeremy was still proudly clutching the pancake batter like it contained the secrets of the universe.

To be fair, Jeremy wasn’t completely useless. He just had what Carla referred to as “enthusiastic incompetence.” He meant well. He also once tried to vacuum the front yard.

Today, he had decided to surprise Carla with breakfast. He had Googled “romantic breakfast for two,” which somehow led him to a Reddit thread titled “How to Cook for Someone Who Deserves Better.”

Progress was slow.

The pancakes were burned on one side and raw on the other. The syrup had been replaced with what Jeremy thought was “organic maple concentrate,” but was actually a bottle of Carla’s hair serum. She would be shiny on the inside for the next three weeks.

And yet, there they were.

Eating something that technically could be called “pancakes,” laughing until coffee came out of Carla’s nose. Jeremy wore a band-aid from a mysterious spatula-related injury. Carla wore a grin that cracked through the chaos.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she muttered.

“And you’re lucky I only ruined half the kitchen.”

She glanced behind him.

“…You turned the microwave into a lava lamp.”

Jeremy nodded proudly.

“You’re welcome.”