James stood in the doorway like a man who had walked into the wrong house. His eyes fixed on me, his breath uneven, his shirt still rumpled like he had just pulled it on in a hurry. I sat there in my robe, sipping my tea, looking at him with a calm smile I didn’t feel.
I tilted my head. “You followed me, didn’t you?”
The question snapped something in him. His facial expression changed immediately and then he asked so it was true. U went to the hotel? and his eyes were searching for proof, for cracks, for a truth he could hold onto.
“Jessica called me,” I said quickly, the lie smooth on my tongue. “She was sick. An emergency. I rushed over. I didn’t want to wake you, James. You were sleeping so peacefully.” So James why did to follow me I question trying to flip the blame on him I told
