I lay in our king-sized bed, propped up by a mountain of pillows, a mountain of crumbs surrounding me. The evidence of my crime scattered across the dark sheets like incriminating evidence at a murder scene. When Kaelen walked in, I quickly tried to brush them away, but it was too late.
"Are those..." he began, his eyebrow arching as he approached, "corn chips?"
I clutched the nearly empty bag to my chest defensively. "Maybe."
Kaelen's lips twitched. "In our bed? Where we sleep?"
"I'm still on bed rest," I reminded him. "This is where I live now. Where am I supposed to eat?"
"Perhaps at the small table I had brought in specifically for your meals?" He gestured to the elegant table by the window, currently piled with my knitting supplies and half-read books.
I shrugged, unrepentant. "Rhys was sleeping on me. I couldn't move."
