I could tell he wanted no part of the conversation.
Kayla poured herself coffee.
“Besides, Andrew has barely looked at me.”
“That isn’t the point.”
She lifted her cup to her lips.
“Of course it isn’t.”
I didn’t like the way she said it.
There was a little challenge hidden inside those four words, like she was daring me to admit something I didn’t want to admit.
Still, I let it go.
She was heartbroken, I reminded myself.
She had lost her relationship, her apartment, and her independence almost overnight.
Maybe she was trying to feel attractive again.
Maybe she was trying to convince herself she still had some control over her life.
I could understand all of that.
What I couldn’t understand was why she needed to do it in my kitchen, in front of my husband, after I had asked her to stop.
By the end of the week, the situation had become a routine.
