o…” Jeremy drawls.
I lift my head from my phone and meet Jeremy’s eyes over the rim of my coffee cup early the next morning.
We’re in the spacious white marble and stainless-steel kitchen, sitting opposite each other on the island instead of in the more formal dining room.
It felt too much like we’d be having a romantic breakfast when Jeremy asked whether I wanted to sit in there, so I told him I preferred the kitchen.
After my nightmare, I’m still warming myself up to the idea of breakfast, although Jeremy demolished a couple of scrambled egg and sausage burritos with what looked like half a bottle of sriracha.
He gazes back at me expectantly, his cup sitting on the table in front of him.
“So?” I repeat coolly when he says nothing else.
The next several seconds pass in silence, and
