I froze in the doorway, staring at her like my brain was still buffering. Val. In my kitchen. When she was supposed to be in London—five, maybe six thousand miles away.
For a second, I actually wondered if I'd finally lost it. That maybe I'd fallen asleep at the wheel and was dreaming this. But the smell of something frying, the faint sound of her humming under her breath—it all felt too real.
"Val?" I said, barely above a whisper.
She spun around instantly. Her eyes lit up, wide and bright before a grin broke across her face. The spatula she'd been holding clattered against the counter as she rushed toward me.
"Husband!" she breathed, wrapping her arms around me so tightly that for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
I caught her, arms locking around her waist like I was scared she'd slip through me. Her warmth, her scent—everything was exactly the same, and I didn't realize how much I'd missed it until now.
