Henry and Adam walk straight to the dining table.
Riley's gaze latches onto them and refuses to let go. His eyes track their every move as though he's waiting for the slightest slip, a crack in their façade, something that might reveal what he's desperate to know.
It feels almost like he believes that if he looks hard enough, if he studies them without blinking, all the questions burning in his mind will finally be answered.
"This is my wife, Victoria," Henry says. The words leave his mouth flat, stripped of warmth, carrying no trace of affection.
There is no real happiness behind the title. He walks across the table and leans in, brushing his lips against hers in a quick peck.
Victoria smiles with a sudden, unguarded brightness, her expression lighting as if she can hardly believe he's showing her this kind of gesture.
Her face carries the astonishment of someone who has waited far too long for something so small.
