-Sean-
The sunlight filtered through the kitchen window, illuminating the half-eaten breakfast spread across the table. I was staring at the remnants of the omelet, but my mind was far from breakfast. That stupid bruise on my cheek throbbed like the broken record of all my regrets, a constant reminder that somehow, the universe had decided to play a cruel joke on me.
"Sean, you really should use some concealer for that." Carter's voice pulled me from my spiraling thoughts. He was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, a smug look plastered on his face. "You don't want your guests to think I have added some layers to your colored flesh."
I shot him a look that was probably more defeated than stern, but he wasn't fazed. "Guests?" I repeated, as if repeating it would clear the fog of
