Iris's POVLuke turned and bolted upstairs. His bedroom door slammed shut with a bang that shook the walls.The living room fell silent. Just me and Lucien.He stood there for a long moment, then slowly straightened and looked at me, his expression unreadable."You did that on purpose," he said.I picked up my glass, took a sip of water, and said nothing.He watched me, his brow furrowed. "You know he can't have too much blood right now.""Lucien, so do you," I said.He didn't respond.For the first time, the space between us had no careful accommodations from me, no gentle veneer of harmony.He paused, then looked away uncomfortably."You haven't been yourself lately," he said. "I know the exhibition upset you.""I know you're hurt that Luke didn't want you at the exhibition." He spoke quickly, as though rushing to reclaim the narrative. "I've told you so many times---he's still young, very sensitive right now, afraid you'll criticize his paintings. That's why he didn't want you there
Ler mais