Happily Ever After... Or Just Happily?

Chapter 7

The dust, as they say, had settled. Or perhaps it had merely regrouped into a finer, more insidious layer of grime that clung to every surface of my life. Here I was, Liana Hoshizora Yamamoto, technically still Mrs. Derek Yamamoto, a woman who had apparently mastered the art of juggling more bad decisions than a circus clown with a caffeine addiction. And the main act? Me.

Dante. My Dante. Or rather, *the* Dante. The one who’d haunted my high school dreams and subsequently my nightmares, only to reappear, looking annoyingly good and smelling faintly of expensive cologne and impending doom. He was sprawled on my sofa, a position that had become alarmingly familiar, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched me attempt to fold a fitted sheet. It was a battle I was losing spectacularly.