Back at the restaurant, everyone was waiting tensely.
Athena could feel it the moment she and Ewan stepped inside. The low hum of conversation had died down, replaced by the kind of silence that holds its breath before bad news.
She reasoned, as she slid into her earlier-occupied seat, that Aiden must have already informed them of what had happened; Ewan had kept in touch with him.
Without waiting for anyone to ask for more details, she gave them a summarized version of the meeting with Fiona—her tone even, clipped, wanting to cut straight to the chase. Every pair of eyes at the table followed her as she spoke, the flickering light from the wall sconce casting long shadows across their faces.
She glanced at her children mid-story, half-expecting confusion, but their sharpened gazes told her otherwise. They weren't bothered by the "mature talks"—their genius minds had already captured and pieced together, in a little way, everything that was happening.
