Gaulin was propped against the headboard, flipping through his tablet absentmindedly, when Matilda stepped out of the bathroom. Her long shower seemed to have washed away some of her frustration, and for the first time this evening, the frown that was on her face was gone.
He sighed in relief. He couldn't stand it when she was upset, but lately, her mood had been as unpredictable as the weather. She crossed the room and sat beside him on the bed.
"How do you feel now?" He reached for her hand, giving it a slight squeeze.
She smiled helplessly at him. "Better," she admitted, "But that doesn't change anything that happened at the party."
Gaulin sighed, lifting her hand to his lips and pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles. "I'm sorry you had to endure all that," he murmured guiltily.
Matilda shook her head. "It's not your fault, honey. It's all your daughter's fault."
