CHAPTER 43
BELLA'S POV
I took another look at my reflection, my mind scrambling for a solution to the problem in front of me—the shirt I was wearing. His shirt—if you could even call it that—was practically transparent, a whisper of fabric against my skin. But after my shower, I had no other options. It was the only thing left in the wardrobe, so it would have to suffice.
And then there was his scent—faint yet inescapable, a cruel reminder of what we were, both mocking and oddly soothing. On me, the shirt was more of a dress, barely skimming my thighs.
I silently opened the door and crept toward the kitchen, my steps careful, my breath held. My stomach let out a low growl, a sharp reminder of why I was risking this trip in the first place.
I yanked the fridge open, my eyes darting ove
