Aurora's POV
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Oliver didn't say a word again. He simply turned his back to me and went back to the vegetables on the cutting board. The rhythmic sound of the knife hitting the wood was no longer steady and calm. It was sharp and aggressive. I could feel the wall going up between us, brick by brick, and I immediately regretted opening my mouth.
The warmth that had been wrapping around us in the pool was gone, replaced by an icy wall I hadn't seen coming.
I stood there in his oversized shirt, feeling small and foolish. We were supposed to be having a perfect afternoon, and I had just ruined it by poking at a question I shouldn't have asked. I looked down at my bare feet on the marble floor, wishing I could take the words back.
As if sensing my guilt—or perhaps hearing my heart sink—Oliver stopped.
