The smell of coffee reached her before she even opened her eyes.
For a second, Ava thought she’d dreamt it. The soft clatter of cutlery, the sound of the kettle whistling. But when she sat up, sunlight spilling across the sheets, she realized it was real. Xander was in the kitchen.
She wasn’t expecting him to be home but he was in the kitchen making them breakfast. He hadn’t made breakfast in weeks.
She ran a hand through her hair, the sting of last night’s shame still pressing at the back of her throat.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face when she’d said the wrong name. That flicker of something dying in his eyes before he looked away.
She took a breath, slipped into her robe, and walked to the kitchen.
Xander stood by the counter, flipping pancakes. His movements were
