Jefferson's POV
Alana's smug voice sliced through the quiet kitchen like a blade. "The grand gesture under the rain worked, didn't it?"
She perched against the counter like she owned the place, crunching through a bag of chips with deliberate loudness. Each bite felt calculated to irritate me, and it was working. The triumphant gleam in her eyes told me she was savoring every second of her victory.
I exhaled slowly, stealing a glance toward the hallway where Elisabeth was still packing. Alana had pushed that ridiculous rain idea on me, insisting I stand outside like some lovesick teenager waiting for his crush. When she called demanding I get soaked in the drizzle, I nearly hung up on her. But a short while later, there I was, water dripping from my hair, feeling like an absolute fool.
Until Elisabeth appeared at the door. Then nothing else mattered.
