I kicked off my heels at the entrance, wincing as my sore feet made contact with the cool floor. The house was eerily quiet, which meant Garry was already in his room. A glance at the clock confirmed that it was past 11 p.m.
I sighed, walking toward the kitchen. I needed a drink—something stronger than water—but I settled for a glass anyway. My mind was everywhere, spinning with thoughts I didn’t want to entertain.
Tonight was supposed to be good.
Tonight was supposed to be a break from my usual anxieties.
But Matteo had to ruin it.
I downed the water in one gulp and placed the glass on the counter with a little too much force. Why did he have to be there? Why did he have to insert himself into my life at every turn?
Dragging myself upstairs, I noticed Garry’s light was still on. He was still awake. A part of me wanted to knock on his door, just to have someone to talk to, but I dismissed the thought. I couldn’t drag him into this.