Morning arrived seven hours later. Isabella woke to the dry rustle of a leafless tree scraping against the window. By instinct, she pulled the sheets over her naked self as she took in the unfamiliar size of the room.
A moment later, Luca entered back inside from wherever he had ventured, holding a handful of nails and a hammer, while wearing just his vest and the chinos. He wanted to repair the window on the left to stop the whistling sound that disturbed their night.
As Isabella watched him work, she replayed the night in her mind.
What made everything feel more incriminating was that she hadn't been drunk, but she wondered if she might've been, because the old her would never have agreed to that kind of recklessness.
