ISABELLA
I stared at the skyline beyond the glass, every glittering light on the horizon mocking me. My fingers tightened around the crystal tumbler in my hands, the cold sweat of the glass slicking my palm.
Logan hadn’t said a word in what felt like hours, though in reality, it was probably two minutes, or maybe less but time always stretched unbearably when the silence was heavy and someone was peeling the skin off your dream with all the subtlety of a butcher.
I hated it, I hated how small he made me feel sitting there on that ridiculous couch with his legs spread like he owned the world and half expected me to thank him for pointing out how miserable my business would be.
The sound of fabric shifting made me glance sideways. Logan rose from the couch, a smooth and unhurried thing
