While Pete was away on business, I had an affair with a French Tomato Tart. I wasn't expecting this to happen, but when I arrived home on Monday night and discovered I had such limited ingredients at my disposal and minimal motivation to leave the apartment, it just... happened.
...but then things progressed...
My cheating was so blatant that I even used a frozen pre-made pie crust. I proceeded to devour this tart over the course of my next three meals: dinner, dinner, breakfast (and would have been another lunch had I not forgotten a slice at home).
How could I resist?
Upon Pete's return I confessed everything, the words just tumbling out. I told him about how I didn't leave the apartment so that I could lie around and eat French Tomato Tart. I told him I ate the entire French Tomato Tart and that there was none left for him. I told him about the fake pie crust.
A real man makes his own crust.
Pete just made me another tart. He made his own crust, which was so very attractive, and used an empty wine bottle as a rolling pin. I love him.
PS - Three is the magic number, love. Happy Anniversary week.