Chapter Eleven
Adalia walked backward until she hit the counter, then leaned against it and breathed through her nose. Sunlight had only just begun to shine through the front windows, and the warm scent of baked bread filtered through to her soul; a form of comfort at its finest that took her back to times past.
But none of it made any difference to Trent and DeShawn.
Her drunk ex-boyfriend – could she really call him that when she’d been on date with him recently? – clambered out of the chair, knocked it over, then shoved it back with the heel of his sneaker.
“He giving you trouble?” Trent asked, gesturing lazily. He had on a stylish suit, but without a tie and his shirt was unbuttoned at the collar. His hair was styled to perfection, and his muscles strained against the tailored jack
