The air felt suddenly thinner, the space between them charged with everything that had been building since Paris. Andrea’s gaze drifted to the way the singlet stretched across his chest, the faint sheen of sweat at his collarbone from the warmth of the stove before she caught herself and looked away.
Henry broke the silence first, voice low and rough from the late hour. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“No.” She stepped inside, barefoot on the cool tile. “What are you making? ”
“Eggs.” He cracked them into the pan with the focused efficiency he brought to everything. “You want some?”
“Sure.” She leaned back against the counter, watching him move the eggs, like it was a task that deserved precision.
He went back to cooking, but the easy rhythm from earlier in the evening had shifted into something qu
