Alaric’s living room was small but warm. A faint scent of medicine and soap hung in the air, the byproduct of a man who treated pets for a living. The couch was soft and sunken in the middle, the kind of couch that told stories about lazy Sunday mornings.
Roxie sat on one end of the couch, her knees tucked beneath her, watching Alaric pour them a glass of wine. Josiah was at her sister’s house for the night. It was the first time anyone from her family had suggested a sleepover for her son after the divorce, and although Roxie had been reluctant, she’d agreed, knowing she had plans and Josaih would have had to stay with Zinnia instead if he stayed home.
“Are you okay?” Alaric asked, settling beside her. He gave her a glass. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, showing strong forearms and a
