"Why don't you let me take you to see the house?"
"The house?"
He nods. "Yes. Where you were born. I can't bring your mother back, but I can bring you to the last piece of her that still exists. I had the west wing of the villa sealed up after everything happened. That space,herrooms and yours…are in almost the exact state they were in when she… Anyway, there are so many photos of her—of you as a baby. I'd love to show you."
My stomach twists. "Oh, I would love that…" I answer as animatedly as I can manage, but even though I tried to suggest that the deeper I could get into Ambrose's world, the better, Seven and Elijah completely torpedoed the idea.
We all agreed to take this slow,Elijah reminded me, and I knew I couldn't push him.
"…but," I continue, "I already have plans this break, andsomuch reading to do for the second half of the term."
I can't saywhatthose plans are because I actually don't know. Atticus is still working it out, seeing if he can find anypossible way to be able to get me out of my apartment and to their house without suspicion.
Deflect, he'd said.Just deflect if it comes up and change the subject.
"Oh, that's too bad, what if?—"
"Maybe on a weekend?" I offer before he asks too many questions and talks me into a corner I can't get out of. "I could probably talk my dog sitter into it with enough notice."
"Oh yes, I forgot. Ellie, was it?"
"Yep."
"Right. I've never had a dog, much to your mother's chagrin back in the day. She always wanted one."
Who sayschagrinin regular conversation?
…only the rich.
"I might be biased, but I highly recommend it. She's the best thing that ever happened to me."
…not counting the three men I cannot tell you about.
No,twomen. Not three.
I cough, realizing I forgot. "I mean, other than—" I wave my hands around our lunch table. "This.You."
I lift my wine for a sip that's more of a swallow as the waiter returns with the second course, a weird arrangement of what looks like salmon and vegetables all spiked up like a parrot's feathers.
"I would have to agree." He tilts his glass toward me, and I clink mine gently to his, taking another sip.
"I couldn't believe it when both tests came back with positive results. I think I'm still processing. It's all a bit…surreal. Like a dream."
My fingers tremble on the glass, and I try—fuck, I try so hard not to let the emotion show on my face—because did he say there weretwotests?
I choke a little on the wine in my mouth, but force it down my throat even though it burns.
"Oh dear, are you all right?"
"Yes." I cough. "Wrong hole."
When I finally get control of the spasm in my throat, I've almost gaslit myself into believing I've heard him wrong. I'm getting good at that, but then he has to go and open his stupid mouth again.
"Yes, when I saw your picture, I already knew I wanted to do an extra test, to be thorough. You looked so very much like your mother. And the necklace looked similar to one she had."
"Mmm." I nod, pretending I'm not a cavern of heart-pounding dread on the inside.
"And then when I saw the necklace up close—in person…"
