“You have a lot of nerve to come here and think you can use my cottage and my goodwill to expose my friend to who knows what.”
“You know Adeline?” he asked.
“Of course I do,” she snapped. “And I have a feeling you knew that too. You must have known she was coaching me.”
“Look, I have tremendous respect for her, but a story’s a story, and we’re going to run it with or without her.”
“She’s not a story, she’s a human being who deserves her privacy just like anyone else.”
He put his hands up in defense. “I thought she’d want the chance to tell her side of the story.”
“What’s that even supposed to mean?”
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You say she’s your friend, but you clearly know nothing about her. That’s doesn’t sound like much of a friendship to me.”
Milly was so angry she wanted to shove him. How dare he tell her what kind of friendships she had or didn’t have? And yet, when she considered it, she was lying about so much of her life too. Were these even real friendships if they were all keeping so much from each other?
“If she doesn’t agree to it,” he went on, “maybe I could interview you about your experience with her, what she’s like now.”
“How dare you even ask that,” she said. “I would never betray my friend’s trust like that.”
“Fine.” He shook his head. “Fine. But you should talk to her,” he said. “Let her know it would help her case if we heard the truth from her.”
She studied him. What a weasel, she thought, feeling deeply regretful that she’d taken his rent money. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll speak to her. But don’t expect much.”
“I’d be so grateful,” he said.
“I’m not doing it for you,” she snipped. “I’m doing it for her.”
“Right,” he said, nodding. “Well, you know where to find me if she wants to talk.”
