Tessa.
The rest of the meal passed in silence.
Not the comfortable kind, the kind that settles naturally between people who understand each other, but the heavy, awkward sort that pressed against my ears and made every small sound feel too loud. The clink of cutlery. The low murmur of other diners. The hum of the ceiling fan above us.
I kept my eyes on my plate, pushing food around more than actually eating it. My appetite had vanished somewhere between Thomas's steady stare and the weight of his words. I could feel him watching me, not rudely, not aggressively, but intently, like he was trying to memorize me in case I disappeared again.
The thought made my chest tighten.
I didn't like the way he looked at me. Not because it was hostile, but because it carried expectations. Like I owed him something I didn't remember giving.
