I turned away first not because I was ashamed, though maybe there was some of that. I dragged in a breath and fixed my attention on the bed, on the pale light leaking through the curtains, on anything that wasn't the weight of his presence behind me.
I acted as though nothing had happened and I hadn't just been caught clutching a relic of my dead sister's private life like some grotesque punchline.
I could feel his gaze had moved past me. I turned slowly and followed it, my chest pounding as I saw what had claimed his attention – the framed photograph in my hands.
Matteo exhaled, and I sighed too.
"She loved that picture," I murmured.
"She did," His voice rumbled into the space between us.
Surprise flickered across my face. I hadn't expected him to speak, still I didn't
