Ken checked his watch. It was five. Certainly not out of the realm for preparing dinner. By the time Karla drove over and they settled into the kitchen and he started preparations it would be six. Perfect timing.
“Can you head over now?” he asked, trying to keep his enthusiasm at bay and sound normal even though when it came to Karla, anything at all to do with Karla, normal wasn’t part of his vocabulary for sure.
He couldn’t wait to finally see Karla one-on-one for the first time since the night she’d walked out, when she had been devastated and so damn fragile looking. As though she’d break if someone stared at her too hard. And yet he had let a brute of a man put his precious girl through the paces, warming her up for when Ken would have taken over.
Karla could have been seriously in
