After dinner, I escaped to the garden. I needed air. The conversation, the lies, the pressure—it was suffocating.
The night was cool, the sound of waves crashing against the cliffs below drowning out my thoughts. I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering.
I heard the sliding glass door open behind me. I didn't turn around. I knew who it was.
"You’re shivering," Adrian said.
"I’m fine," I lied.
He took off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders. It smelled like him—sandalwood and expensive cologne. I wanted to shrug it off, but the warmth was too tempting.
"You didn't tell me about Elena," I said, turning to face him.
He was leaning against the stone railing, lighting a cigarette. The flame illuminated his sharp features.
"It didn't seem relevant."
"Relevant? Your mother hates
