The next morning, I make sure I’m at the breakfast table before Ezra arrives. After leaving Tristan, I wasn’t able to sleep. Dominic had returned to the house hours later, but he mostly stayed outside, at the front of the house and far away from me.
Before the sun had even begun to peek over the horizon, I shower and dress, scrubbing Tristan’s scent from my skin. But it’s no use. Even now, I can still smell him. Tristan is right—Ezra is most certainly going to kill us once he finds out.
Trying to ignore the butterflies in my gut, I focus on making breakfast. The eggs sizzle in the pan as I add in bits of cheese and sausage I’d found. Flipping the omelets over, I add some tomatoes and pepper, the scent of the food filling the room. The coffeemaker whirs, pouring a large cup just for me
