Marcus’s thumb moved once against the side of Elena’s neck, a small private motion that Victoria tracked with her eyes.

“I’m not going to insult you by calling it a mistake,” he said. “It was a choice. A repeated one. And it grew into something neither of us walked away from when we should have.”

Victoria’s face tightened. For a moment it looked like she might actually scream. Instead she laughed once—short, sharp, completely without humor—and pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes.

“Something neither of you walked away from,” she repeated. “In my house. While I slept down the hall. While I asked if you were happy...