“So… why are you wearing his shirt?” Nadia asks, narrowing her eyes at me like she’s trying to solve a crime.
“Because he told me to wear it, knowing I wouldn’t,” I answer flatly. “So I wore it.”
There’s no real logic behind it, and I know it. The oversized white dress shirt brushes against my thighs as I lean over the table, carefully cutting leather pieces for Eve’s overnight bag. The material is soft, infuriatingly his and somehow, even after being washed, it still smells like him. My fuzzy white socks keep my feet warm while I focus too hard on pretending I don’t care.
Nadia doesn’t respond right away, which is suspicious in itself.
I glance up.
Her face is pale.
A beat of silence stretches.
“What?” I ask, immediately concerned.
“Ummm…” She shifts uncomfortably. “So I did a thi
