Rae's POV
Later that day, the house smelled like roasted garlic, fresh basil, and Mom's signature tomato sauce-the kind she only made when she was feeling nostalgic.
The table was set for four: Mom, Victor, Killian, and me. Candles flickered in the center, soft jazz played low from the speaker, and everything looked so perfectly normal it almost hurt.
I sat across from Killian, trying to act like the girl who hadn't spent the morning crying in his arms.
Mom set the pasta bowl down with a flourish. "Dig in, everyone! I slaved over this sauce all afternoon."
Victor smiled-tight, polite-and passed the garlic bread. Killian served himself quietly, eyes flicking to me every few seconds, soft and searching.
I kept my gaze on my plate, twirling spaghetti around my fork, appetite gone.
We
