His gaze met hers and she caught the shadow of guilt there, the flicker of regret. "I'm thinking about everything, about you, about what you said, what I've done and what I can't undo," he said.
Her throat tightened. He remembers. He remembers everything.
"You don't even know the half of it," she whispered, trembling despite trying to stay composed.
"I know enough," he murmured. "Enough to understand that the truth is coming whether I'm ready or not. Your uncle told me you would come seeking answers about your parents. I didn't expect it to feel like this."
"What do you mean?" she asked, sitting up a little straighter.
He exhaled slowly, leaning back. "I didn't expect it to hurt this much to see you like that, to hear you accuse me, to feel the weight of your pain pressed
