Allyson's POV
I watched the shadows cross Michael's features as he spoke about his former wife. His grip on the wine glass grew tighter, his knuckles nearly translucent against the crystal. Even though he claimed to be past it, the haunted expression in his dark eyes told a different story. She still held power over him.
"I see." The response slipped out barely above a whisper.
Michael exhaled slowly, deliberately. "We used to cook together all the time. When everything fell apart, I couldn't bring myself to step into a kitchen anymore."
My fingers found his across the table, offering what comfort I could. "I'm happy you've started cooking again. Especially for me."
