“You are.”
“I’m really not.”
Tristan lowered his gaze, and I caught the smallest hint of amusement crossing his face.
That somehow made it worse.
“Mrs. Bellamy—”
“Eleanor,” she corrected.
“Eleanor,” I repeated. “You need to rest.”
“I am resting.”
“You are observing.”
She laughed softly.
“I like you, Bianca.”
I smiled despite myself.
“Thank you.”
“No,” she said, glancing between Tristan and me. “I mean I really like you.”
My stomach tightened.
Before I could respond, Tristan cleared his throat.
“Mother.”
The single word carried a warning.
Eleanor ignored it completely.
“What?” she asked innocently. “I’m allowed to appreciate good people.”
I focused on arranging the items on Eleanor’s bedside table, pretending I hadn’t noticed the exchange.
A few moments later, Tristan stepped closer.
“Bianca.”
I looked up.
“Yes?”
“I wanted to apologize.”
The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard.
“For what?”
“For the other night.”
