I was having breakfast with Andrew at the mansion when he received a text message from Dennis. Andrew was still on bedrest, but otherwise, things had been going pretty well for us. Even most of the media buzz surrounding the shooting had been positive, showing an overwhelming amount of support for Andrew and me as a couple.
As soon as Andrew read this message, though, I knew that it wasn’t good. Andrew’s shoulders tensed, his jaw clenched, and the muscles in his neck tightened. His free hand curled into a fist, bending the fork that he was holding.
I placed my hand over his fist.
“Are you all right, Andrew?” I asked.
He shook his head and set his phone on the bed tray table holding up his breakfast.
“Just some more rumors that I have to deal with,” he said, his voice flat.
I lightly
