Leila knew she had done nothing wrong, but the way her husband was gawking at her made her feel guilty of unknown crimes.
“Freya,” she finally answered. “My best friend.”
“The one who ditched you at the wedding?”
She almost shrugged. “Ditch is a strong word.”
“How’s she?”
Leila rose, knowing he would follow as she left for the dining. Once they sat, she dished the pasta onto their plates. It was her family’s recipe, but she had tweaked it to fit her husband’s taste buds.
“She’s fine,” Leila replied in continuation of their conversation. He rolled the pasta around his fork and sighed after taking his first bite. His joy reminded her so much of her parents, and her heart ached. She missed home. “A bit pissed I didn’t inform her about moving and the wedding.”
“This is good, Leila.
