Hundred and thirty Five

Alessandra's pov.

I don’t remember the last time I laughed like that.

Real laughter — not polite, not restrained, not the kind that dies the second someone leaves the room. But the kind that bubbles up and spills out no matter how hard you try to stop it. The kind that takes your breath away and makes your ribs ache. The kind I used to have when Jeremy was still alive.

God.

I swallowed the ache in my throat before it could rise again.

Killian stood in the middle of the disaster zone we’d created, looking like he wasn’t sure whether to throw us out or walk away. His hair was a little messier than usual, and his eyes—his eyes—kept flicking to me like he didn’t trust that I was really okay.

Neither did I.

But for a few seconds, with flour in my hair and frosting on my pants, I’d forgotten how empty my chest had felt these past weeks.

Brie launched another pillow at him and shouted, “You looked like you needed emotional support. This is emotional support!”

Killian caught the pillow witho