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Liviana
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I’m hit by a sudden rush of anxiety, and my heart accelerates as I lock eyes with Tyson, who’s seated in a chair, his gaze fixed on me. A sense of foreboding washes over me, and I whisper his name as my eyes trail down to the bottle of whiskey placed in front of him.
“You didn’t go to work?” I stammer, not even hearing myself before greeting him good morning. But he doesn’t reply. Instead, he continues to stare at me, his gaze intense, sending shivers down my spine and I take slow steps into the room, realizing I have to explain myself.
“I’m sorry, Tyson,” I begin, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you to let you know where I was. I’m also sorry I didn’t tell you about my mother.
She reached out to me three days ago, and
