REMI'S POV
Eleanor came to the penthouse on Sunday morning.
Not a scheduled visit — she called at eight-fifteen with the particular brevity of someone who has decided something and is informing rather than requesting: I'm coming at ten. We need to speak properly.
We need to speak properly was Eleanor's version of there are things I have not said and the time for not saying them has ended.
I was at the kitchen island with tea when she arrived. Dax let her in, which meant they'd had some version of a conversation in the foyer before she appeared — the particular quiet between them when she walked through that told me it had been short and direct and something had been confirmed.
She sat at the island.
Not across from me, which was how she'd sat in the early meetings — the assessing pos
