Anna froze, her fork hovering halfway to her mouth. Slowly, she lowered it back to her plate, the soft clink sounding far too loud in the sudden quiet.
Every eye at the table turned toward her.
Her eyes flicked around the table, landing on their expectant faces. Everyone was waiting—expecting her to say something.
Anna’s thoughts spun wildly. She didn’t know what to say, knowing that telling the truth would only make Isabella ask questions she couldn’t bear to answer, yet she couldn’t bring herself to lie.
“We met at…” she began, but her words faltered.
“At where?” Isabella prompted gently.
Anna swallowed. “We met at—”
“We met at a restaurant,” Vincenzo cut in.
Anna turned to him and caught a wide smile on his lips as their gazes locked.
“Isn’t that right, mi amore?” he added,
