Voices came from inside.
A woman was speaking.
“You told me she wasn’t coming.”
Adrian answered.
“She never attends company events.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“I handled it.”
I stopped outside the door.
Priya looked at me.
I pushed it open.
Adrian stood beside the windows with a glass in his hand.
For one suspended second, he looked like the man I had married: dark hair slightly untidy, tie loosened at the collar, the familiar crease between his eyebrows.
Then he saw me.
The glass slipped in his hand but did not fall.
“Elena.”
A woman stood near the fireplace. She was perhaps my age, dressed in a simple navy gown. One hand rested protectively on the shoulder of a thin boy with dark curls.
Noah.
He looked at me with wide, uncertain eyes.
Adrian moved first.
“What are you doing here?”
Not I’m sorry.
Not let me explain.
