BELLA'S POV
I looked at the library door.
He looked at his legal pad.
The entrance hall offered nothing useful on the subject of what happened next.
"One o'clock," he said, after a moment.
"I heard."
He went back toward the study.
I went back to the library. I picked up my book from the window seat. I looked at the spine. I had no idea what it was about anymore.
At five past one, I came downstairs.
He was already at the table.
Of course he was. He was a man who was on time for everything, I had learned this in the way you learn someone's rhythms when you share a space with them, whether you intend to or not. He was at one end of the long dining table with a glass of water and no documents, which meant he had been deliberate about leaving the documents behind, which meant this was
