The words told me everything about what he had expected.
“I came with Mila,” I said.
His face changed.
“She’s here?”
“Downstairs.”
He placed his glass on a table.
“Elena, this is not the right time.”
“The right time for what?”
Claire looked between us.
“You said she knew.”
Adrian turned toward her.
“Claire—”
“You said your marriage had been over for years.”
Bianca inhaled softly behind me.
I almost smiled at the terrible symmetry.
He had told all of us different versions of the same lie.
I looked at the boy.
He had moved closer to Claire.
Whatever Adrian had done, Noah was a child. Like Mila, he had been brought into a room built by adults and expected to understand none of it.
“Hello, Noah,” I said gently.
He looked at his mother before answering.
“Hello.”
“I’m Elena.”
“I know.”
That surprised me.
“How?”
He looked at Adrian.
