Wren
My eyes drift to Ezra for the tenth time this night. Since the call, he’s been much more quiet.
“Baby?” I lift a brow, watching him twirl the spoon around his food. He’s been eating really slowly too.
He forces a smile. “Yes, love?”
“Are you going to tell me what the call was about?”
“It’s nothing really.”
“You look like you have a lot on your mind.”
“I’m just thinking,” he replies. “Eat, love. I’m fine.”
“You’re not eating either.”
“Okay then. Let’s eat…both of us.”
I agree. No one says anything again, both of us trying our best to hold down our dinner.
In about thirty minutes, we push our plates away and drink some water, eyes staring at each other over the rim of our cups.
“I’ll place them in the dishwasher.” I stand.
He stands too. “Don’t worry, I’ll do it.”
“No.” I
