**OLÍVIA’S POV**

Dinner wasn’t what I expected—I thought we were starting to get along. But it could’ve been worse. At least Gabe ate with me for the first time in three months.

When he left the kitchen, I followed, unsure what we’d do or *if* we’d do anything together. He looked at the picture I’d hung above the fireplace, the collage of us at a wedding, and ordered, “Take that down!”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because this house is totally impersonal. Our ...