CHAPTER 89: The Guilt That Kills
My breath hitched in my throat as I slammed Ava's diary shut, holding it against my chest. I had been so engrossed, so lost in the world of Ava's diary, that I had completely forgotten about Alexander.
A jolt of panic shot through me as I glanced up. There he stood, leaning against the doorway, his phone clutched in his hand, a lazy smile playing on his lips. My heart hammered against my ribs, an agitated drumbeat in the silence.
"Babe?" His voice was a low rumble, laced with amusement. "Everything alright in there?"
Heat flooded my cheeks at his endearment and I realized how I must look–disheveled, wide-eyed, and clutching a diary that wasn't mine. "Uh, yeah," I stammered, shoving the diary behind my back as if it were a burning coal. "Just, uh, catching up on some reading."
His eyes narrowed playfully. "Really? In the kitchen?"