I would have preferred suspicion. It was easier to live with.
“What are you asking for?” she said.
I looked away first.
“An invitation.”
That was not the answer I’d intended on giving her, but there it was.
Not access.
Not entry.
An invitation.
Something freely given.
Something that belonged to her.
Polina was quiet.
“My father hosts a winter charity reception every year.”
I turned back to her.
“Small by his standards. Fifty guests. Maybe sixty.”
“When?”
“Next Saturday.”
The idea formed between us at the same moment.
“You could attend.”
“I could.”
“You’d have a legitimate reason to be there.”
“I would.”
Neither of us mentioned that it solved two entirely different problems.
Her gaze searched mine.
“You’re still not telling me everything.”
“No.”
“That’s an honest answer.”
“It’s the best one I have.”
For a long moment she said nothing.
Then she sighed.
“I hate that I trust you.”
