Amanda's POV Neither of us says anything for a while. Alex stands at the window with his back to me. Outside the gardens are going from grey to gold, and I can see his shoulders working under his shirt. He's trying very hard to breathe like a man who is fine. "Alex?" He doesn't turn around. His voice carries that grating sound I have come to know as anger. "Five years, Mandy. I understand your reluctance at first, but you knew how I felt. Didn't it occur to you I would have been happy to know she was alive? That she survived?" He stops, presses two fingers to the bridge of his nose. "I poured my heart out to you and you didn't trust me enough. Not even a year after." He turns and looks at me, grim. "No, not tonight. If I start I will say something I cannot take back, and you have only just come home." I want to tell him I'm sorry. It's true, and it's not enough, and we both know it. So I say, "Later this evening I'm going to see her. Grace. She doesn't know I'm in the city. I
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