“I’m sorry, Iris,” Christian says, looking down at his plate and settling his hands in his lap. “You’re right.”
My eyebrows go up as my spine straightens. Because, I mean, those are not two sentences I’ve heard very often over the past two months.
Christian lifts his eyes to mine. “It is difficult for me. My knee-jerk is to keep you in the dark about things, because I still think that you’re safer not knowing.”
“Not knowing didn’t stop me from getting kidnapped and tortured, Chris,” I say quietly, leaning forward towards him, feeling his fear but wanting to be part of this nonetheless.
“Not knowing did let you keep all your fingers, Iris,” he replies, likewise leaning towards me.
“I don’t think so,” I respond, shaking my head. “I think the only thing that held them back on that acco
