19
Nick laid a sleeping Santi on the couch and looked toward the kitchen where Melissa was mixing a storm.
The brownie ingredients splattered over the counter went against his stringent three month plan, but he had a feeling she wouldn't appreciate him pointing that out.
Santi snorted from his position in the couch. Nick turned on the ceiling fan and dimmed the light in the living room before sucking in a breath and venturing into the kitchen.
Melissa was doing serious damage to the batter of brownies she stirred. He watched her quietly.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said without looking up.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re upset that I snapped at Santi.”
“Mel—”
“I didn’t mean to scare him. I was just worried that he would fall.”
“Melissa…”
“I know what you’re about to say.
