Emily's POV
We were chatting in the little sitting room when Waylen walked inside holding a bowl of something delicious.
I could smell it.
It must be something special he had the chef make to entice me into eating something other than Cheetos which was all I crave for in the past two days.
He was still in the perfectly tailored Armani suit he left this morning in. The only difference between the handsome dude I kissed goodbye this morning and the one holding a bowl of steaming food was his hair and tie.
His hair was held together with a band and his tie was loose like he had intentionally crumpled it.
"Hey, baby. When did you get home?" I asked him as soon as he walked inside.
I was sitting by the window in a loose dress, the messy bun I was rocking wasn't by design…I genuinely didn't have the strength to run a comb through it. I was bare footed and now, that I think of it, in a compromised situation.