CHAPTER THIRTY TWO : Trying
~Zella's POV~
I woke up and reached for my phone before I was fully conscious.
Not for messages. Not for the time. Just — reached. The specific automatic reach of someone who had spent three weeks waking up in a penthouse where there was always coffee already made, footsteps in the kitchen and the low sound of another person existing nearby.
There was nothing.
Just the flat. Just Scotland. Just the particular quiet of a place that belonged to me and nobody else.
I lay there for a moment and let that land.
Then I got up.
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The microwave hummed. I stood in front of it watching the pasta container rotate and thought about the handwriting on the label that wasn't Evander's and the fact that he had organized someone else to write it and the fact that I was
