My mouth is still hanging open when I see Kent’s dark head and broad shoulders ducking through the open door of my tiny wardrobe.
I’m still staring when he turns to glare at me.
“Are you happy now, Fay?” Kent asks, stern and clearly pissed off.
And that makes me snap my mouth shut as I narrow my eyes at him.
“Do I look happy, Kent?” I ask, waving a hand at myself – at my tear-stained cheeks, my messy hair.
And, well, my cozy pajamas, my book, and my reading light might not be adding to the picture of misery I want him to see at the moment, but I think he gets the point because Kent sighs and presses the bridge of his nose between his fingers.
“Fay,” he sighs. “Why didn’t you come downstairs? I want to talk to you.”
“Because, Kent,” I answer softly. “You already gave me your answ
