Then he stepped forward and lifted me up. “Why aren’t you cooking? Are you mad at me?”
He chuckled lightly and pulled out bandages to wrap my wounds. “I already apologized to her for you. She’s not holding a grudge, okay? You’re overthinking. There’s nothing going on between us. I know you’ve had a hard time here. When we move to Washington, I’ll make it up to you.”
After saying that, he grabbed the dead fish and began cooking himself.
I stared at his back, my mouth opening and closing several times. He never used to step foot in the kitchen. He always said cooking would mess with his shooting precision.
So, how did he suddenly become so skilled after seven or eight years away?
In the end, I said nothing.
I had already made up my mind to leave him. There was no point in asking questions anymore.
Dinner tasted like sand in my mouth as Briar clung to Callum throughout the meal.
First, she claimed her arm hurt from when I pushed her earlier, so she needed him to feed her. Then, she brushed a grain of rice from the corner of his lips and popped it into her own mouth before gasping dramatically and apologizing to me, saying it was just a reflex, and I shouldn’t misunderstand.