This wasn't like Vivienne. She was always ready. Always prepared. Always ten steps ahead of everyone else.
I crouched down in front of her, so our faces were level. Close enough to see the tiny freckle near her left eyebrow that you'd never notice unless you were paying attention.
"What happened in there?" I asked. "With your mom."
She opened her eyes, revealing those purple irises that always seemed to be calculating something. The usual sharpness was dulled now, replaced by something I couldn't quite name.
"She told me to end it," Vivienne said, her voice barely above a whisper. The controlled elegance that defined her was slipping, like watching a perfect marble statue develop hairline cracks.
"End what?" I pressed, already knowing the answer but needing to hear her say it.
"This." Her hand made a small, uncertain gesture between us. "Whatever this is. Whatever we're doing. Whatever she thinks we're doing."
I nodded slowly. "And what did you say?"
