Rowena
For the first time in a while, I walked into the house without Eric. I dropped my bag by the door and kicked my shoes off—maybe a little too angrily, because my mom heard me.
“Rowena? Honey, is that you?”
I sighed and wandered over to the kitchen where my mom was preparing dinner. “Hey, Mom,” I said as I slid up onto one of the stools at the counter.
“Hey, honey.” She stirred the pasta in the water and tapped the wooden spoon on the side of the pot. “Carbonara for dinner tonight. Your favorite.”
Normally, the idea of my mom’s homemade carbonara for dinner would have gotten me excited; but I hardly had an appetite today after my fight with Eric. “Thanks,” was all I could manage.
My mom shot me a surprised look. “What’s wrong?” she asked, then glanced around. “Where’s Eric? You
