I nod. “Chris.”
“Ah.”
When I don’t volunteer anything else, he walks over and sits down next to me. “He doesn’t approve of us, does he?”
“Apparently, it’s a trend.”
“Is that a problem for you?” Anton asks.
I look up at him. “I wish I could be the kind of person who doesn’t care.”
“But you do.” It’s a statement, not a question. “Your parents will come around.”
“Margaret and Thomas said the same thing,” I tell him.
“They’re right. And as for Chris, there might be another reason he’s against our situation.”
“Which is?”
“He’s in love with you.”
I frown. “Freya—I mean, Marina—said the same thing to me once.”
“This might be the one and only time she is right.”
“I just… I don’t know. Chris and I have been friends for so long.” He raises his eyebrows at me, and I give a defeated little sigh. “Shit, I don’t know. I can’t think about that right now. For the record, I think you’re both wrong. We’re just friends.”
He shrugs, as though it doesn’t matter to him either way. I search for some hint of jealousy on his face, but I can’t find any. I wonder if that’s a good sign or a bad one.
“Time to pack your bags,” Anton tells me. “We’re going home.”
“Back to the mansion? That’s home?”
He turns to me, forehead creased. “Of course, it is. It’s your home as much as it’s mine.”
A smile I can’t contain spreads across my face. “Okay. I’ll pack up.”