“Whoa. What’s that smell? Did Liam spend the offseason getting better at cooking?” “Nope.” She stops us in the center of the kitchen and holds out her arms. “Ta-da!” I glance around. There’s a stack of plates on the marble island and two pans on the stove. I spot a plaid dish towel folded next to the sink and silverware on the counter. Nothing is different from when I was here for pizza night last week, and I’m even more confused. “Uh.” I frown and scratch my beard. “What am I looking at exactly?” “Where did she—Madeline? Are you okay?” she calls out, and my frown turns even deeper. “Who the
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