Elias walked in wearing the navy sweater I had given him last Christmas.
For one suspended second, we simply stared at each other.
He looked tired. His jaw was shadowed with stubble, his eyes red-rimmed. He seemed so convincingly wounded that my first instinct was to step toward him.
Then I remembered his voice above me in the hotel room.
Tonight I still have to pretend.
“Ella,” he breathed.
Nathan moved between us. “She’s not alone.”
Elias’s gaze flicked to him. “This is my home too.”
“No one said it wasn’t,” Nathan replied.
Elias ignored him and looked at me. “Where have you been?”
I folded a sweater and placed it in my suitcase. My hands were steadier than I felt.
“I needed space.”
“Space?” He laughed once, but it cracked. “You left me on our wedding night.”
“You noticed.”
His face tightened. “Is that supposed to be funny?”
“No.”
“Then talk to me.” He took a step forward. Nathan did not move. Elias stopped. “Please. Whatever you think happened, whatever Brenda said—”
Interesting.
I looked up.
“Why would Brenda have said anything?”
His mouth closed.
There it was. A tiny shift. Not guilt exactly. Calculation.
“I just mean,” he said carefully, “you’ve always been insecure about her.”
I zipped the suitcase.
“I haven’t mentioned Brenda.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Nathan snorted.
Elias glared at him. “Can you give us a minute?”
