It’s morning, and I am moving slowly around my kitchen, making coffee barefoot and sporting nothing but a tanktop and panties, my hair a wild mass piled on top of my head. I still can’t shake the mild misery of last night. Under any other circumstances, I would have been flattered and probably a little flirtatious after a comment like the one Ruv made. Continue reading
The house is quiet, the dusk settling over the whole island like a warm, velvet blanket. I can hear Sophie in the nursery, softly babbling to herself as she plays in her crib, the other children out at an event at Addie’s school. I have just poured myself an espresso and, inhaling deeply, I waft the fragrance under my nose as I settle onto a stool at the kitchen table. The lights are out, save the fan above my head and the night-light in the hall, so the candle-lanterns in the garden cast a soft glow into the kitchen from outside.