The men watch on eagerly, ready for a catfight. But I won’t lower myself to her level.
Channeling my inner yoga goddess, I take three calming breaths as I dry my hands on a dishcloth. I grab a roll of paper towels and some all-purpose spray to wipe down the floor. Without a word, I walk over to the mess Zoey made and drop to my knees.
A heavy exhale leaves Saint, but he doesn’t say a word.
As I’m wiping up the gooey eggs, which are cooked just fine, I’m coated with a spray of coffee. Yelping, I shrink back, but it doesn’t make a difference. I’m covered in the coffee Zoey just poured onto the floor. It seems her breakfast wasn’t enough of an insult, and she had to add her coffee as well.
Clenching the paper towel in my hand, I keep my eyes peeled to the floor as I’m afraid of what I’ll
