The conversations at the dinner table still echoed in her ears long after the dinner table was cleared.
The candlelight had died, the air thick with spoken and unspoken truths.
Xander was unbuttoning his shirt in the bedroom when she finally spoke.
“What the hell was that?”
He glanced up, calm as ever. “Dinner?”
“Don’t do that,” she said sharply. “Don’t play dumb. You invited Tristan, you talked about exploring. What the hell is going on with you?”
Xander didn’t flinch. He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, looking up at her with unnerving composure.
“I’m trying to understand you, Ava.”
“Understand me?” she repeated, incredulous. “By humiliating me in front of him?”
“I didn’t humiliate you.” His tone was quiet, almost tender. “I gave you freedom. The thing you’ve be
