Samuel looked at his tablet. Then he looked in the rearview mirror.
Max was looking down at Ruby with an expression Samuel had known him for three years and had never once seen on his face. Not even close.
The expression of a man who has been ice and control and contained intensity for so long that warmth, when it finally arrives in full, doesn't know how to be subtle.
He was tracing her face with his thumb again. And unless Samuel was very much mistaken, and he was rarely very much mistaken, Maxmillian Byron was giggling.
Quietly. To himself. Like a man who couldn't quite believe his own life. Samuel looked at his tablet again.
He closed it.
He set it on his knee and looked out the passenger window at the city going past and said nothing at all.
Another time, he thought. Some things could wait.
