CHAPTER 12
SABRINA
I stare at myself in the mirror.
I can't believe I'm back here, in this place with Lachlan Quinn, doing this again.
Playing pretend.
Playing house.
Playing...whatever this is.
It's hard to believe, no matter how I try to look at it.
After Lachlan cooks an afternoon breakfast that rivals anything I've ever eaten—
complete with chocolate chip pancakes, melted butter, and a side of puffy sour cream, just how I like them—he practically chases me out of the kitchen while he cleans up.
While he washes dishes, wipes counters, and mops floors, I take a bit of time to change into some of my clothes, which I keep in my 'little black bag.'
If I'm going to be here, I'm not going to have him change my bandages again. And I can't help the plan that starts to form in my mind
