"Where were you last night?" my Aunt repeated the question. Now were having coffee together.
My fingers tightened slightly around the ceramic mug, enough for the heat to seep through.
The question wasn’t loud, but it carried weight, like it had been waiting at the edge of her lips for hours, or maybe longer.
I swallowed hard, buying time. The kitchen suddenly felt warmer than it should have. The light breeze coming in from the open window did nothing to cool the rush of panic rising under my skin.
"I… uh..." My voice trembled. Fantastic. Smooth, Andrea. Real smooth.
She was still watching me, putting her coffee mug down to the table. Then her arms loosely crossed like she hadn’t already mapped out the truth in her mind.
But her face, God, her face… wasn’t angry. It was calm. Still.
