“No, I wouldn’t,” Andrea says, grabbing the pen from Lance. “I trust you.”
“Are you sure about that?” Lance asks with a small smile.
Lance presses his leg against hers and strokes her arm. A few strands of hair have fallen across her face and he tucks them behind her ear. Andrea looks away guiltily. She wants to swear that she trusts him, but she realizes it’s not true. A part of her still thinks he might have fathered Leonie’s child. She knows it’s irrational, but she just can’t forget about that afternoon in the bedroom—it seemed so real.
“I’m not sure,” she whispers.
“Why don’t you trust me?” Lance asks. He lifts her head so he can look into her eyes. “Please tell me.”
Andrea puts her hands on his shoulders and says, “I don’t actually know you that well.”
It’s true, she thinks. Wh
