“Well,” he said, towering over her. He looked pale, older. He had lost his boyish sparkle. There were lines around his eyes and mouth. Or maybe it was just the moment—Edward had always been able to transform and morph, almost before her very eyes.

She held on to her Styrofoam cup. It was filled with boiling water. She held it in her hands, fingers wrapped around it, letting herself actually feel it. She thought maybe she was going into shock, and holding on to the hot cup was grounding her. She could throw it at him, she thought. Right now, and escape.

“My wife,” he said. “I never thought I would see my wife again.”

“What do you want?” she asked without looking up at him.

“What do I want?” he asked. “Hmm. That's a good question. I'd like to know what happened. Why you ran away from me. What did I do that was so terrible?”

“We're alone here, Edward,” she said. “You know and I know the truth. Let's not pretend otherwise. We were both there.”

“You humiliated me,” he said. “No, worse than that . . . ‘humiliated' doesn't really start to cover—you let me think that you were dead. And you let me be investigated for your murder.”

She wanted to block her ears; she knew she had to stop him before he got going. Yet she couldn't help feeling curious, fascinated by his presence—just like staring at a shark's fin circling the boat on a summer day, or a copperhead sunning itself on a shady stretch of road, there was something irresistible about the most dangerous creatures. Almost as if normal people couldn't quite fathom sharing their existence with something so pretty and deadly and right there in the open.

“Edward,” she said, “What are you doing here?”

“The newspapers said you came home because your grandmother was in the hospital. I've come to visit her. We've stayed in touch, you know, Maeve and I.”

Lily wanted to jump up and scratch his eyes out. Her pulse shot up, her breathing went crazy, but she held on to her cup to keep herself steady. She could almost hear her grandmother's voice telling her to stay calm, not give him the satisfaction of seeing her true feelings.

“Did Maeve tell you I visited?” he asked pleasantly.

Lily stared into her cup. Why hadn't he mentioned Rose? Maybe Liam was wrong. Maybe the person in Rhode Island hadn't been Edward after all. If Edward knew about Rose, why wasn't he asking about her?

He chuckled slightly. “Of course she didn't,” he said. “Maeve didn't know you were alive. You kept her in the dark, just like the rest of the world. So much for the close Jameson family.”

“You put her here,” she said.

He smiled, sending a chill down her spine.

“Guess who I saw this morning?” he asked.