The spaghetti was a disaster, but I'd die on this hill before admitting it. Ray just rolled her eyes and popped open the Chinese takeout, heating it for Will.
"Suffer alone, Spaghetti Man," she muttered as she sat beside Will, watching him devour noodles like he hadn't eaten in days. "Or you could give up and eat the good stuff."
"I'm good, thanks," I replied, forcing down another bite of the tomato-slicked mess I'd made. Maybe it was the sauce. Maybe it had expired. Or maybe I just couldn't cook for s**t.
After dinner, I handled the dishes while Ray took Will upstairs for bed. The moment they were gone, the thoughts came flooding back. Peter and Ray. Laughing. Talking. Her flushed cheeks. That look in her eyes when she walked through the door.
Why is this bothering me so much? We've b
