Agnes
Thea cornered me at the kitchen island the next morning, planting her hands on her hips with that stern look on her face—so much like her father—that immediately made it clear that she had a bone to pick.
“Are you and Daddy in love yet?” she demanded.
I nearly dropped the coffee mug I’d been holding. “What?”
“You went on a date! And now you’re all smiley!” She leaned forward, furrowing her brow at me with a seriousness that went beyond her years. “So? Are you?”
I didn’t know what to say to that. Had I been smiling? I glanced in the window, taking a peek at my faint reflection; and sure enough, my mouth was tugged up slightly at the corners, faint smile lines betraying my inner emotions.
But I quickly schooled my expression before turning back to face her.
