"So, you are telling me that your husband spent the whole night here with his arms around you," James chirped, his eyes alight with a mischievous, almost frantic excitement. He was leaning across the marble kitchen counter, his chin propped in his hands, watching Lyse's every move like a hawk.
"Ex-husband," Lyse answered with a deadpan expression. Her voice was flat, devoid of the spark James was clearly looking for. She carefully poured the dark liquid into a ceramic mug and slid it across the table toward him. Her hands, she noticed with a pang of irritation, were still trembling slightly.
