Paul's pov
The sound of laughter outside sliced through the thick tension in the room, jolting me out of the haze I'd been lost in. I stood abruptly, almost knocking over the tool bag at my feet. My pulse hammered as I berated myself internally. What the hell was I thinking?
I had almost crossed a line,a dangerous, unforgivable line. Here, of all places, with my wife, Pate, and her mother just a few rooms away. The guilt clawed at me like a rabid beast. I grabbed my tools, muttering curses under my breath, and headed toward the door with every intention of leaving before I could make things worse.
Just as I reached the entrance, I nearly collided with Pecan's mother. She was wiping her hands on a dish towel, her sharp eyes narrowing as she took me in.
"Paul," she said, her tone slightly suspicious. "Everything alright?"
I forced a smile, trying to sound as composed as possible. "Yes, ma'am. I've taken care of the plumbing issue. It was just a blockage."
