Stella
Sebastian helped me inside the passenger side of the car. Our hands remain connected as I slowly lower myself into the seat, taking my time as I settle into the leather seat. As soon as my hands and feet are inside the car, Sebastian slams the door closed, and I watch as he quickly circles around the front, anger written all over his face.
As soon as he gets inside of the car, the vehicle is filled with a tent silence. Sebastian moves with determination. The car engine roars to life, and I can feel the vibrations from beneath the seat.
I can't bring myself to look at him. How can I even explain why I was outside crying with my ex-husband? How can I explain that I allowed a man such as him to take my hands into his own, to bring me comfort when I needed it the most?
What has me c
