“Your phone,” I said stupidly, holding it out like evidence of a crime. “It rang. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have answered it, I just thought maybe it was important and you were upstairs and I, I’m sorry.”
His expression changed as he took the phone from me. Closed off. Guarded. “Who was it?”
“Vivian.”
The name hung in the air between us like a detonation.
Adrian went completely still. “What did she say?”
“She asked who I was. Said she’d be in touch about Christmas. That was, that was it.”
“That was it?” His voice was flat now. Cold. All the warmth from this morning, from the past few days, just gone. “What else did she say?”
“Nothing. I mean, she was surprised that someone answered your phone. She asked how long I’d been here.”
“And you told her?”
“I said I got stranded in the storm.
