—Mabel—

Alec stood on his terrace in a black button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up, collar slightly wrinkled—like he'd been pacing.

Even his hair was disheveled and his eyes shadowed.

My heart pounded as I climbed the short stairs and joined him on the terrace. “Good evening,” I greeted.

“Hi,” he mumbled. “What are you doing here?”

I drew a deep breath. “Please, we need to talk.”

“About what? About the truth you kept from me the past six years?”

“At least hear me out ...