Matthew had plied her with a few glasses of wine while he drank his whiskey, and the heat from the fireplace, the earlier great sex and the general stress of the morning had wiped her out. When her phone pinged from her purse on the chair all the way across the room, she blinked but snuggled deeper into the warmth and ignored it. Except, of course, that her phone wouldn’t stop chiming until she answered it. “I’ll get it for you,” Matthew said when she sighed and grumbled. And he did too, gently setting her feet aside and bringing her the entire bag. Stella thumbed her phone to bring up the text from Tristan. It was a picture of him, grinning ear-to-ear, standing next to a car she didn’t recognize. Jeff stood next to him, hand on Tristan’s shoulder. He had the same grin. No text, just a picture. Furrowing her brow, she studied the picture, then replied, What? Dad bought me a car. Fuck.
