Yet here we were.
My feet seemed to move on their own, or maybe my foolish heart told them to move. Either way, I moved down the hallway toward the den with the light on. There, I peeked in through the open door.
Damien was leaning over the dry bar, his elbows on the bar top, his back stretched delightfully, distracting me for a moment.
I shook my head to clear it, seeing now that he held a class of alcohol. Whiskey maybe, or brandy. I’d never been very good at discerning the difference between the hard liquors, as I never really had much taste for them.
He seemed okay physically, if not somewhat lost in his thoughts.
With a sudden realization, I knew I shouldn’t have been there like this with him and started to turn away.
I didn’t take even one step before his voice called out to me
