Claire’s POV
The bell rings again, polite but insistent, and this time I feel half of what I felt earlier, before the last time I opened the door to my mother-in-law. Blowing out a breath, I wipe my hands against the kitchen towel, resting the cup I had been washing down.
Despite having a dishwasher, I choose to hand-wash my dishes.
When I open the door, Reed stands there, immaculate as always, flanked by two assistants and a rolling rack that looks like it wandered out of a couture atelier by mistake. “Good morning, Claire,” he greets, eyes warm, mouth unreadable. “Jeremy asked me to stop by.”
My breath stalls somewhere between my ribs, but I gesture for them to come in, fidgeting with my wedding band, then scratching the back of my neck a bit nervously.
“How are you settling in?” Hi
