Chapter 10

The first thing Thomas noticed, when consciousness crept back into his body that morning, was the aroma of frying bacon and sweet, caramelizing onions. The shafts of dawn light slipping past the curtains painted warm gold stripes on the kitchen tiles. He blinked once, twice, and realized Cassandra was already gone. His shoulders slumped as he remembered his own good intentions: he’d planned to surprise her with pancakes, maybe eggs Benedict, to prove himself the doting husband he aspired to be. But instead, she had beaten him to it—she had prepared his breakfast.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as he stepped into the bright, tidy kitchen. There on the table, Aunt May’s vintage china shimmered under the overhead lamp. A steaming mug of coffee stood beside a plate piled high with scrambled eggs, crisp toast, and home-fried potatoes. He ran a hand through his rumpled hair. “So much for being a good husband,” he muttered to the empty chairs, his voice gentle, not bitter. He settled i