“Sorry,” he says, and hesitates. “Do you still not…?”

“Remember? No. A lot of that whole wedding weekend is a blur and I still don’t remember anything about what happened to Bella.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “But me and Lena are here with you. We can help.”

I want to laugh at the thought of Lena helping, but he chooses that moment to pull me into his arms and I hold my breath instead.

“So—roomies then! It’s like being back at boarding school. We can stash cookies and stolen vodka under the bed. Hang out of the window smoking,” Lena says.

I stuff a pillow into a pillowcase and raise my eyebrows. With Max in Bella’s old room, Lena’s having to stay in with me. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed swinging her legs, making no attempt to help.

“I don’t have those Enid Blyton boarding school moments to reminisce over—me and Bella went to the local school.”

“Still got a chip on your shoulder about that?”

I squeeze the pillow between my hands and resist the urge to hit her with it. Why does she always have to be so…so Lena?

“And it was never remotely Enid Blyton, anyway,” she says. “Just a lot of miserable girls like me whose parents either didn’t want them at home or worked abroad. All starving themselves or making themselves sick or slicing up their arms.”

“Wow. Sounds…well, it sounds absolutely horrible.” I pause. “You know, Bella always wanted to go to boarding school when we were kids.”

Lena smiles. “I know. She used to ask me so many questions. I’d tell her how shit it was, but she’d still be sighing over it like it sounded amazing.”

“Oh. That must have been…never mind.”

“What?”

“I was going to say it must have been frustrating. If you were trying to share something you hated and she wouldn’t listen.”

Lena picks up her pillowcase and lays it on her lap, tracing the floral pattern with her fingers. “It was a bit, I suppose. But she was so damned sweet with it. It ended up making me feel better in a way. All I used to do was moan about it, but she wouldn’t let me. She made me find some vague nice things about the whole experience.”

“Well, we only have to be roommates for the weekend, so hopefully there won’t be any nasty trigger moments.”

“Yeah, and no doubt you’re already counting down the hours until I’m gone again.”

I don’t say anything because she’s right. A few hours in her company and I’ve already got a knot of anger and anxiety building inside me.