Memories.

“I'm talking to you, Seth!" Isabella said sharply.

It had been fifteen minutes and Seth hadn't uttered a word to her. All he did was take glances at her over his shoulder occasionally. She might as well be talking to herself all along. Goodness knows she wished she knew what was going on in his head.

“I give up.” She voiced, getting up from the stool and trudging out of the kitchen. She was tired of talking to herself while watching him cook. Her feet were aching badly, it had been a long day for her at work, and the last thirty minutes made her stressed.

Her plan was simple. She would bathe, she would have dinner, and go to bed. Seth would be gone the next morning, and everything would be cream and peaches.

As she marched her way to her bedroom, she cast a glance at Seth, her fingers playing lightly with the buttons of her shirt. Much to her disappointment, he was engrossed in pasta! With a growl low in her throat, she stormed into the room and closed the door.

"I could file a