"What?"
Phei's voice cracked somewhere between shock, panic, and something that felt terrifyingly like hope. His fork clattered against the plate. His heart was hammering so hard he could feel it in his throat.
Divorce? Living together? Full-time?
Was she insane? Was he insane? Had the last twenty-four hours broken both their brains so thoroughly that neither of them could think straight anymore?
The emotions crashed through him like waves—fear, excitement, terror, desire, confusion, more fear—and he couldn't sort through any of them fast enough to form a coherent response.
Melissa watched his face cycle through approximately seventeen different expressions in three seconds.
Then she laughed—bright and genuine and nothing like the cold, calculating woman he'd grown up fearing.
"I'm joking, Phei." She crossed back to him, still chuckling. "Relax. You looked like you were about to have a stroke."
