Under the dim glow of the lights, Raphael’s eyes were faintly bloodshot, but gave away nothing. His voice was calm, almost detached. “Sorry, just a bit tired from work.”
Work? Really? Grace frowned inwardly. There was something off in the way he looked at her just now... she couldn’t quite place it, but it didn’t feel like the same man who’d called her this morning.
The soft scent of roses still lingered between them, reminding her—he had come to find her, brought her flowers, and made the effort. She could at least try to be a considerate wife for once.
“Alright,” she relented, “why don’t you rest a bit? I’ll run up and change, then we can go eat.”
Raphael’s dark eyes flickered, closing slightly as he leaned back in the seat, though nothing about him seemed at ease. His throat tighte
