The smell of burnt toast and eggs met her when she emerged from the bathroom, a subtle hint that Landon was trying, in his own way. His cooking had been.an experience. But he was trying, and it was hard not to be hopeful about that.

When she came into the kitchen, Landon was dishing scrambled eggs onto a plate, his back to her. He never cooked before, and it showed, but the last two weeks he'd been insisting on trying. Looking at him, so normal, so domestic, tugged at her heart. She almost wanted to believe things could be different. Almost.

"Morning," he said, turning around to her. He was...