“I told her about you,” he corrected. “Why do you act so surprised?” His gaze was narrowed on her lips. A shiver went through her.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly.

“Because you wouldn’t consider telling your mother about me, is that it?” he asked, eyebrows cocked. He put the glass to his lips.

“No, it’s not that. I might have told her. If she were alive.”

The champagne slid back into his flute before he’d drank it. “I didn’t know,” he said, staring at her. “How long has it been since she passed?”

“She died when I was almost eighteen.”

“Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“No. It’s just...