The rest of dinner passed in a blur of stilted conversation and forced politeness. Trevor kept fishing for information — my job, where I was living now, how long Fao and I had been together. I deflected what I could, but my mother had never been good at reading a room.
"She's in her grandfather's old cabin," Mom said brightly when Trevor asked where I'd "landed" after our breakup. "You know the one, off Route 15? Very rustic. I keep telling her she should move somewhere with better cell service, but you know Elowen — stubborn as a mule."
I felt Fao go rigid beside me. Felt his hand tighten on my knee.
Trevor's smile widened. "Route 15. How... cozy. I had no idea you'd gone so rural, Elowen."
"I like the quiet," I said flatly.
"I'm sure you do." His eyes flicked to Fao. "Must be nice.
