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“She thinks I’m out of town for the week,” I said, eyes still fixed on my own reflection in the glass. “This is the perfect time.”

“Understood.” He hung up before I could say anything else.

I sat there for another long second. I could see Janet peeking out of the window upstairs. I pretended I couldn’t.I tossed the phone on the passenger seat and pulled off.

I could feel that my jaw was clenched. It was pissing me off that I couldn’t just confront Janet and tell her to get the fuck out of my house.

I didn’t mean to drive by Zane’s house.

But somehow, I ended up there.

I thought about stopping, knocking, and asking if she wanted to come with me.

But it was broad daylight. I didn’t want the neighbors seeing us. Didn’t want to give her more to deal with than she already had. So I just sat there at the edge of her driveway, engine running for a few seconds, but then I drove off.

My chest felt heavy. My jaw tightened even more.

I couldn’t put words to what I was feeling. But I knew—just after a few hours—I wanted her around.

Chapter 8- Zane

I felt strange being there.

Even though Sam had offered—You need a break? Time away? You come here—it still felt like I was walking around someone else’s life in borrowed shoes.

But I didn’t want to be in my house. Not right now. Not with my thoughts. I might have messed around and burned all of Mark’s clothes. So I packed a small bag with a few changes of clothes and some toiletries, left my car in the driveway, and got in an Uber back to where I felt safe right now, and let myself in with the key he gave me.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d stay. A day, maybe. Just long enough to think clearly. Long enough to not cry in the same bed Mark used to make love to me in.

When I get overwhelmed, I clean.

When I’m anxious, I cook.

So that’s what I did.

I scrubbed the kitchen first—wiped down the counters, rinsed the whiskey glasses from the night before, threw the burnt pan into the sink and soaked it. I even opened a few windows to let in some air.

Then I ordered groceries. Enough to fill the fridge.

And I cooked.

Nothing fancy. Just the kind of meals that stick to your ribs.Roasted chicken. Seasoned vegetables. Mac and cheese baked with three cheeses. Collard greens. Garlic mashed potatoes.. I even baked a small peach cobbler and left it to cool on the stovetop.

I figured I could leave Sam a few plates. He said his wife didn’t cook.

Said he couldn’t cook and I had witnessed that when he burned the eggs.

So this was me saying thank you the only way I really knew how.

By feeding someone.

By making them feel taken care of.

I was transferring the last of the food into meal prep containers when I heard the door open. The sound of heavy boots. The rattle of keys.

I looked up and my eyes landed on Sam. I sighed like a teen girl. He was even more gorgeous in the light of day.

He paused in the doorway, his eyes scanning the kitchen before landing on me. I smiled big to cover up my gawking.