I poured myself a glass of wine and carried it to the couch. Thursday was usually Peyton’s earlier night, but I hadn’t heard from her. I was starving, so I fixed dinner and was just settling in when the door opened.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” Peyton grumbled.
“How was your day?”
She shrugged. It was pretty normal for Peyton to be quiet when she got home. I hated that she was so overworked and stressed, but she insisted she loved her job.
I ate my dinner while Peyton got changed. When she joined me on the couch, with her own bowl and glass of wine, she looked much more relaxed.
“You doing okay?” I asked, knowing she wouldn’t give me much. Peyton was older by almost four years, but most of the time I felt like I was her big sister. I loved her, but she would get distracted by what she was doing so
