LAYLA'S POV
The moment I open the door and step in, it feels like Edward threw a party, deep voices echoing, and thick male scent clogging the air.
My steps slow as I get closer to the living room, then stop completely when about five pairs of eyes land on me at once.
The conversation dies instantly.
I blink. They blink.
My gaze flicks from one face to another, then drops to the stack of pizza boxes piled on the table.
“Hi,” I whisper, then turn sharply toward my room because all I need right now is a hot bath to scrub Colt off my skin and then sleep and pretend I can forget everything that happened, even though I know I won’t.
I’m barely five steps in when someone steps out of the kitchen, almost crashing into me. I jerk back just as he reaches out, catching my wrist to steady me.
