Page 33 of Ghost in the Cupboard

“Are you here for dinner, or just the floor show? Because I need to eat first.” I asked.

Danny frowned at me.

“Have I mischaracterized our situation?” I teased. “Or was my honesty tacky?”

“That’s not what this is,” Danny said.

“Sure,” I said with a nod. “I’m making pasta. Nothing fancy. But there will be salad and garlic bread, so well-rounded meal and all that, I suppose.”

I stepped around him to open the backdoor. Danny grabbed my forearm and stopped me.

“That’s not what this is,” he said again.

“And I can’t see ghosts,” I said.

We stared at each other for longer than was comfortable.

“You can convince yourself of anything if you really want to believe it,” I said with finality.

Danny said nothing.

“So?” I asked brightly. “Pasta? Salad? Garlic bread?”

He gave a firm nod.

“Great,” I said. “Follow me.”

And I led us into the house.