JULIAN

I got home around eight thirty that evening. Claire was on the couch with her laptop, reviewing sketches as usual.

She looked up when I entered, her expression shifting immediately. "You look stressed," she observed, closing the laptop.

"Long day," I replied, which was true but incomplete.

Claire stood and crossed to me, studying my face carefully. "You're lying," she said simply.

"I'm not," I protested.

"Julian," she said, her voice firm. "I know when you're hiding something. Your jaw gets tight, and you can't quite meet my eyes."

She was right. I'd never been good at lying to her. "It's work," I said, which was still true. "Board...