(Lena)
By the time I got home, Diane had completely taken over the kitchen.
Takeout containers covered half the island. An open bottle of wine sat beside two glasses and one of her suitcases was parked near the front door. Another sat open in the hallway with clothes spilling over the edge like she'd given up trying to organize them properly.
I stopped and looked around.
"You've made yourself very comfortable."
Diane looked up from where she was sorting through a pile of clothes.
"You're welcome."
I laughed and set my bag down near the door.
Tomorrow she was flying back to New York and the thought had been sitting in the back of my mind all day. Diane hadn't been in Atlanta very long, but she'd somehow become part of my routine faster than I expected. The house was going to feel qu
