The next morning, I had barely come downstairs when I saw Alexander sitting on the living room couch.
His whole body was rigid and stormy, like he’d just walked out of the eye of a hurricane.
“Barbara.”
He said my name in a voice as cold as ice water.
I could tell he was in a foul mood.
But what did that have to do with me anymore?
“Morning,” I said lightly. “Make yourself at home. I’m heading out in a bit—my boyfriend’s taking me to breakfast.”
The words had barely left my mouth when the air felt like glass shattering.
Alexander’s temper ignited in an instant. He shot to his feet and clamped a hand around my wrist.
“Since when do you have a boyfriend?”
It wasn’t a question so much as an accusation—like I’d done something unforgivable behind his back.
I met his eyes without flin
