Chapter Eighty

LARA

I’d been pacing in the kitchen for the last ten minutes.

I had already set the table. Adjusted the candles. Rearranged the napkins. Twice. The house smelled like fresh cookies and roasted garlic. The fairy lights I had strung along the windows blinked cheerfully.

I was dressed in a wine-red sweater dress, soft and warm and probably overdressed but I didn’t care. My hair was curled into loose