"Where do they live?" - I ask giving up, but my question comes out so low that I'm afraid Ian didn't listen, as he pours the wine into the fine and elegant glasses, as if we were celebrating only for my arrival in this small remote village.
I squint when, before answering, Ian takes a quick glance upstairs to make sure his friend hasn't come down yet.
"In New York." - he says with an indecisive tone, as if he doesn't want or couldn't talk about it, so this time I decide not to go further, hurrying to take off the scarf for the heat that surrounds me and deprive myself of the beanie, leaving my disheveled curls hide my shoulders.
«They don't have a good relationship with their son.» - he adds after a couple of seconds, making me jerk my head up in his direction.
I knew that Ethan was not a perfect man from the first day I met his eyes, in factI was more than amazed when I learned he had a museum.
But Ian's words amaze me as if I didn't expect it.
I would like to ask him why, if Ethan has done something serious that his parents have never been able to forgive him about, but before I find the courage to speak, I hear the door of the house swing open and Meredith walk into the living room even more enthusiastic than before.
"It's beautiful out there." - her shrill voice forces me to turn to her side to hold back a grimace when I realize that the snow on her doesn't have the same effect it has on me:
if I had been out for more than five minutes I wouldn't have the same flawless look my friend has right now, and that's one of the many things I envy of Meredith.
She seems to be prettier than before, but I'm not going to control her these days, although I'm sure Ethan had his clear reasons for inviting us to this place.
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