Jocelyn made her way back into the kitchen, unable to continue watching Abigail fuss over Gabriel, regardless of the fact that she knew the woman was married to Lorenzo and just cared for Gabriel like a friend and sister.
There was still a closeness and familiarity that made Jocelyn both envious and uncomfortable. So the kitchen seemed the best place to be.
She sat down at the kitchen table, braced her elbows on the wooden surface, and dropped her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook from the sudden tremor that traveled through her body.
The overwhelming urge to crumble on the kitchen floor and cry hit her. Jocelyn shook her head and pressed the palms of her hands harder against her eyes until she saw flashes of white behind her closed lids.
Crying didn’t solve anything, she reminded
