My morning tea splashes into the mug when Adalyn trips into the kitchen. Her hair is pinned up and showcasing her slim neckline, leading into the curve of her breasts, accentuated only by her white blouse. A long necklace drapes between them, stopping by her stomach.
“Morning. How do you feel?” I ask her, glancing back to my task before I’m caught staring too long. Tea hovers near the lid line and I jerk back before it spills over.
She strides past me and to the fridge before pulling out the milk. “Dandy. As good as new. I guess yesterday was a fluke.”
“I suppose,” I murmur, mind wandering away. Adalyn getting sick last night is weird, at the very best. For the time being though, I’ll leave it be and pretend it doesn’t indicate the possibility of something worse, like she suggested.
I
