"I'm barely through the door-" "By all means, get settled and comfortable," he said in a low, dangerous voice. A voice that told me my comfort was the furthest thing from his mind. I kicked off my shoes and tossed my jacket on the couch. Not because he told me so, mind you. I put both hands on my waist and inhaled deep and pushed the air out of my nose. I did it a few times, and when I hit number ten, I realized I wasn't doing it to calm myself. I was waiting for him to apologize. When I faced him, I realized my breaths were wasted. He was more concerned with the glass in his hand. "To answer your question, dinner was awful. And awkward." "That's too bad." "What the fuck, Jacob?" I snapped. Every bit of bottled up frustration boiled over. I knew that matching his obvious anger would do this situation no favors, but I couldn't put the stopper back in the bottle. "She didn't know. It was a perfectly innocent question." He barely batted an eye. "Cole is none of their business." "Even that would have been an improvement over what you said," I spat.
