ADRIAN walked out of his office and into the lounge, his steps dragging as though his shoes were weighted down. In his hand was a half-finished glass of red wine. It had been two days since the disaster of Hazel's award ceremony, and Amelia, typical Amelia— was still mad at him. More than mad, she had gone silent, shutting him out completely. Adrian had lived long enough with her to know that silence was worse than her shouting. Silence meant she had given up on words, and that was far heavier than anger.

He dropped himself onto one of the lounge couches, setting the glass on the table in front...