Layla
I leaned against the marble countertop of the kitchen, watching as Vanessa diced vegetables with growing ease. The aroma of garlic and herbs filled the air, giving the kitchen a warmth I couldn’t feel reflected inside.
My conversation with Ethan still sat heavy in my bones, in my heart, in my very lungs, like a weight I couldn’t throw off. It didn’t help that I hadn’t seen Aldo except in passing since our less-than-amicable conversation in the den.
Not that I suspected either of us was truly or intentionally avoiding the other. But when life got busy, which it certainly had, it seemed our communication was the first thing to suffer.
“You’re quiet today.” Vanessa’s knife ceased its staccato chop, and the quiet rang in my ears. “You okay?”
I forced a smile. “A lot on my mind.”
T
