She looked up.
For a moment, she seemed genuinely surprised.
Then one eyebrow rose.
“He’s your husband, Amanda. Not a teenage boy.”
“I know.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“The problem is that it makes me uncomfortable.”
Kayla studied me, as though she were trying to decide whether I was serious.
Finally, she shrugged.
“Fine. If it bothers you that much.”
I thanked her and left it there.
I thought we understood each other.
The following morning, I came downstairs and found her wearing the same towel again.
She was standing near the coffee machine, humming softly while Andrew searched for his keys.
When she noticed me, she smiled.
“Good morning, sister.”
I stared at her.
“Kayla.”
“What?”
“We talked about this.”
She glanced down at the towel, then back at me.
“Oh, this?”
“No, the weather forecast.”
She laughed.
“Relax. It’s a towel, not a marriage proposal.”
Andrew suddenly became very interested in locating his keys.
