Lily Thompson
I barely looked at him when I came downstairs.
Still moving around like the air wasn’t crackling between us. Like he hadn’t stood shirtless in my kitchen, looked at me like he wanted to pin me against the fridge, and then left me spiraling for the last thirty minutes.
No, he was tying Isabella’s shoelaces now, humming some ridiculous superhero theme song like
“Ready for school, Bells?” he asked, patting her head.
She beamed. “Ready, Uncle Riri!”
He looked up at me. “Want me to warm up the car?”
“No.” I grabbed my bag, tight-lipped. “We’ll take a cab.”
He blinked. “In this weather?”
I stepped past him. “Come on, Isabella.”
My daughter gave him a reluctant wave and jogged to catch up to me. I heard him sigh behind us.
We walked down the street, the sky heavy with g
