Adam followed Sofia into the room, his stride measured but his heart anything but steady. He had been hoping—aching—for a few quiet minutes alone with her. Instead, her two best friends were still scattered around the kitchen island, mugs in hand, chatting softly.
A flicker of disappointment brushed through him; he wanted to hold her, talk to her, do anything to soothe the storm he saw in her eyes. But the pain there was so raw it almost made him feel unworthy to stand beside his own wife.
He had canceled an important board meeting that morning—one his entire team had begged him not to miss—just to come here. Last night he'd crashed at Tristan's apartment, too exhausted and restless to go home alone.
When Tristan offered to drive him to Sofia's old house, Adam had said yes without hesitation. For all his teasing, Tristan had been steady as a rock, and Adam was grateful.
