Later that night, Sophie stood by her window, staring at the storm clouds forming over the lake.

Alexander approached from behind and slipped his arms around her waist.

“I hate days like this,” she said.

“The betrayal?”

“The silence afterward.”

He kissed her shoulder. “You handled it perfectly.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to be perfect. I want to be free.”

He turned her gently to face him. “Then be both. For once, let yourself be.”

Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt, slow, deliberate. “Still here?”

“Always.”

She kissed him then — slow at first, then deeper, until his shirt was off, and her breath was...