MRS BAD AND MR INNOCENT
Aaron was still slumped over the counter, his head in his hands.
Was this about… last night?
I stared at him for a few moments, a strange tightness squeezing my chest, before slipping back into the room and sinking onto the bed.
Is he really that hurt?
.
I took the last bite of pasta, chasing it with a glass of water. Wine was off the table—at least in my father’s eyes. To him, his daughter had no alcoholic bone in her body anymore, and I had to keep that up.
I nodded absently at whatever Dad and Aaron were talking about. For the past hour, Dad had done nothing but gush over Aaron like he was some celebrity. I started to wonder if he truly admired Aaron’s brains, or if deep down, he just wan
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