The following day, Mark's confession still lingered in my mind.
I sat at the kitchen table, stirring my coffee absentmindedly as I replayed his words from the night before. He hadn't just told me about Mackenzie... He let me in. He had peeled back a layer of himself that I was sure he didn't show to many people. And the more I thought about it, the more it unsettled something deep inside me.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
We weren't supposed to be this close.
Mark entered the kitchen, dressed in his usual crisp shirt and slacks, looking like he had already been up for hours, and if I hadn't woken up earlier than him, I would have believed it. He glanced at me, smirked slightly, and reached for his coffee.
"Morning."
