Chapter 15

• Layla was humming under her breath while she cooked supper, grateful that the smell of the chicken and vegetables didn’t stir up nausea the way the scent of anything fried seemed to do. At least her studies hadn’t started yet. She was at the start of a reading week, set aside for home study.
• The doorbell went off, and she wondered if Steve had forgotten his key. Her friend’s parents had died when he was eighteen, leaving him with the means to buy his own apartment. She was comfortable living in Steve’s guest room but, concerned that she was taking advantage of his good nature, she had taken over the cooking and the cleaning to demonstrate her appreciation of his hospitality.
• Barefoot, she padded out to the hall, a slim, casually clad figure in skinny jeans and a striped navy and white sweater, her vibrant long hair restrained in a braid that hung halfway down her back.