That was worse.
Because either I could not tell the difference, or devotion and greed could wear the same expression.
On the third day, Elias came to the apartment.
Rebecca had arranged for my cousin Nathan and two movers to meet me there so I could collect clothes, documents, and personal items. My father wanted to send staff, but I refused. I needed to walk through those rooms once before they became evidence in someone else’s file.
The apartment sat on the fourth floor of a renovated building in the Mission, with tall windows and old wooden floors that creaked near the kitchen. I had loved it the first time I saw it. Loved the morning light, the blue tiles in the bathroom, the tiny balcony just wide enough for two chairs and a basil plant.
When I unlocked the door, everything looked untouched.
The coffee mugs we chose together. The framed print from our first trip to Monterey. The half-built bookshelf Elias promised to finish after the honeymoon.
Nathan watched me from the doorway. “You okay?”
“No.”
“Fair.”
He was my age, blunt in a way I usually found annoying but now found comforting.
I walked to the bedroom and opened the closet. My side was neat. Elias’s side looked disturbed, hangers shoved aside, drawers half-opened.
“He’s been here,” I said.
Nathan stepped closer. “Want me to check the rest?”
Before I could answer, the front door opened.
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?”
“No,” I said.
The word surprised both of us.
Elias’s expression softened too quickly. “Ella, baby, come on. This isn’t you. You don’t shut people out. You don’t run to your rich relatives and make things dramatic.”
My heart thudded.
