CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Natalie's POV

That smell of garlic-laden roast chicken filled the air of the dimly lit dining room and was reassuring. I sat just across the table; Brandon was deep into food. All his attention was on the plate as he put labor into cutting the steak. Weak candlelight fell luxuriously on his face, and shadows leaped at his face, making him sadder than usual.

I spun my fork around absentmindedly. I wasn't all that hungry for the really good dinner we were having. It had turned into one of those very long days with all the ordinary stress of operating a restaurant, and now, sitting here with Brandon, I can't help but reflect upon how everything had shifted so dramatically in what has to count as hardly any time at all.

We had been getting into some kind of rhythm, but so much was still unsaid between us—especially with everything that happened with Arlys.

Brandon's cell phone. He looked at the screen to see who it was calling from before answering. "Anthony," he said into his phone, lea