I stared at my phone for a good ten minutes before I pressed the button.
It was silly, really.
I had faced my mother's judgement, THE ex, and a shadow that followed my family across the world. Yet here I was, sitting in the great room of Duncan's house, hovering over a single name like a teenager trying to work up the nerve to talk to her crush.
Riley.
It wasn't that I didn't want to call her. I did.
It was that I didn't know what to say.
What do you tell a friend whose house burned down, whose husband was hunting her, and who was tucked away in a corner of an inn with two little boys? "How are you?" sounded stupid. "Are you okay?" sounded even worse, because I already knew the answer.
She wasn't. Then again, none of us were, not really. We just got better at hiding it.
I check the clock twice. Early afternoon here meant early morning in Scotland, late enough that the boys would be up, early enough that Riley wouldn't be in the middle of anything.
