Twelve
They’d both pretended this was a normal day, but they knew better. Just as she’d done for the past few weeks, Amber met Idris in the tea room and shared breakfast with him, and just as they’d done many times before, they went for a walk in the gardens afterward. She’d almost hoped the day would be gloomy and dark, a fitting echo of her inner state, but, just as it had been for the past week, the weather was sunny and breezy and warm, cheerful the way only a Southern California autumn could be.
Luckily, he didn’t try to force their conversation, only walked quietly next to her — but not too close, not so close that it would have been easy to slip her hand into his.
As if she would have had the guts to do that.
A few times, he made a comment about the gardens, but that was it. She
