ELENA'S POINT OF VIEW
I stood outside my mother's apartment building, keys in hand. I needed to talk to her. I needed her advice about Mia, about Isabelle's reaction at the café, about the knot of confusion sitting heavy in my chest.
Mom always knew what to say. Always had a way of making complicated things simple.
I climbed the stairs to the third floor and walked down the familiar hallway. When I reached her door, I knocked twice before using my key.
"Mom? It's me."
I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Then I froze.
My mother was sitting on the couch. But she wasn't alone.
Mr. Blake sat across from her in the armchair. A cup of coffee in his hand. A plate of biscuits was on the table between them.
They both looked up when I entered.
"Elena!" My mother stood quickly. "Sweetheart, I didn't know you were coming."
I couldn't move. Couldn't process what I was seeing. "What... what is he doing here?"
Mr. Blake set down his cup slowly. "Hello, Elena."
