Aria’s POV
I stood frozen on the staircase, like a deer caught in headlights or, more accurately, a woman caught between her ex-husband and her current boyfriend, holding stolen pancakes and wearing yesterday's clothes. The tableau was perfect in its awfulness: Damien by the door in borrowed clothes, Julian on the porch with flowers and wounded eyes, and me in the middle looking like I'd been dragged through a hedge backwards.
The air crackled with tension so thick it choked.
"Hey!" I finally found my voice, forcing brightness into it as I descended the stairs. "I wasn't expecting you."
I dropped the pancake onto a saucer on the dining table, evidence disposed of, and grabbed a tissue to frantically wipe the grease from my fingers. My hands shook slightly as I crossed to Julian, whose
