The hinges squeal when I pull the old door open. Also, I haven’t yet figured out how not to melt when I see him.
His suit is black and crisp, though his tie is loose and hanging a little to the left. Even with bags under his eyes and a stare as grim as can be, he’s so handsome that it hurts my stomach to see it.
“My dad is dead.” His voice matches his stare.
My heart plummets. “I’m so sorry, Tomas.” I lay my hand on his arm. I’m comforting him. That’s all.
He sighs, and I move back to let him in. “Thanks.” When he brushes past me, I get a whiff of his cologne then mentally chastise myself for even thinking about burying my face in his shirt and inhaling until I can convince myself to move away.
“You want something to drink?” But he shakes his head and moves to look at the pictures on
