Adrian Hayes had once negotiated a multimillion-dollar acquisition before nine in the morning. Today he couldn't negotiate five more minutes in bed.

"Elliot," he complained, clinging to a pillow, "this is a medical emergency."

Elliot stood at the foot of the bed, buttoning his cardigan. "You said that twenty minutes ago."

"And the situation has deteriorated."

"What's wrong now?"

"I'm recovering from a serious accident. I need affection."

"You had affection at breakfast."

"That was breakfast affection. This is entirely different."

Elliot approached, bent down, and kissed his forehead. Adrian caught his hand and pressed it against his cheek.

"Five more minutes," he pleaded.

"I have a meeting with a gallery owner."

"I'll buy the gallery."

"No."

"I'll buy the building next door and make it a better gallery."

"Adrian."

"Fine. Go pursue your career. Abandon your fragile husband to his enormous, comfortable bed."

Elliot laughed and kissed him once more. "You're impossible."

"You married me."

"Twice, if you count your current efforts to win me over."

"I'm working on the paperwork."

Elliot left with his portfolio, and Adrian stared at the ceiling, smiling like an idiot. Their recent closeness had not solved the mystery of his missing years, but it had changed the way the house felt.

He no longer walked through rooms as though he were visiting someone else's life. He knew which mug Elliot preferred and how much cinnamon he added to coffee.

He knew Elliot hummed when concentrating and sometimes forgot lunch when working. These were small discoveries. Adrian valued them more than the grand photographs in the hallway.

Noah called at ten. "How's married life, Romeo?"

"Exceptional."

"That sounds ominous."

"I've decided to be supportive."

"Should I notify the stock exchange?"

Adrian ignored him. "Do you know any good gallery owners?"

"Why?"

"Elliot has a meeting. I want to understand his work instead of treating it like a hobby."

Noah went quiet. "That's actually a good idea."

"Try not to sound so shocked."

"I'm shocked by the absence of a terrible idea."

Adrian spent the afternoon reading about Elliot's illustration projects. He learned that Elliot had turned down an overseas residency two years earlier.

The discovery troubled him. Had Elliot wanted to go? Had Adrian asked him to stay? He made a note to ask without making assumptions.

At four, Elliot returned carrying a paper bag of pastries and an expression of cautious optimism.

"The meeting went well," he said. "They want to see more of my work."

Adrian stood so quickly that his chair rolled backward. "That's fantastic."

"You don't even know what I pitched."

"Then tell me."

Elliot blinked. Adrian sat beside him and listened while he described an illustrated series about ordinary city neighborhoods. He asked questions about color, deadlines, and printing.

Elliot looked more delighted with each answer. Adrian realized that genuine attention could be more romantic than an expensive gift.

The doorbell rang midway through the conversation. Elliot checked his phone and brightened.

"Ryan's here. I forgot he was stopping by."

"Ryan?"

"Ryan Cooper. My college friend."

Adrian's pleasant mood became suspiciously fragile.

Ryan entered carrying a small package of archival paper. He was tall, confident, and annoyingly good-looking. Worse, he hugged Elliot as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

"You look great," Ryan told him. "I heard the gallery meeting went well."

"I was just telling Adrian."

Ryan turned with an easy smile. "Good to see you recovering."

Adrian shook his hand. "I'm recovering magnificently."

No one had asked.

Ryan and Elliot talked about college exhibitions, professors, and a disastrous student show where the lights had failed. Adrian tried to follow, but every shared memory reminded him of what he lacked.

Then Ryan brushed a stray piece of paper from Elliot's shoulder. Adrian stood.

"Would anyone like coffee?" he asked with the enthusiasm of a man interrupting a robbery.

"Sure," Ryan said.

"Wonderful. Elliot, help me."

Elliot followed him into the kitchen, amused. "You know how to make coffee."

"This is a complicated machine."

"You designed its app."

"Exactly. I know its weaknesses."

Elliot folded his arms. "You're jealous."

"I'm observant."

"Of what?"

"That he touches your shoulder a lot."

"He removed a piece of paper."

"A highly intimate piece of paper."

Elliot burst out laughing. Adrian tried to remain offended, but his mouth betrayed him.

"Ryan is my friend," Elliot said gently. "He was there for me while you were in the hospital."

Adrian sobered. "Then I owe him thanks."

"You do."

"I can thank him without liking his hair."

"A reasonable compromise."

Back in the living room, Adrian offered Ryan coffee and, after an awkward pause, thanked him for supporting Elliot. Ryan accepted with a surprised smile.

"He talks about you constantly," Ryan said. "Even when he's furious with you."

Adrian glanced at Elliot. "Furious?"

"A long-married couple has opinions," Elliot said quickly.

Ryan laughed. "I'll let you two get back to them."

After Ryan left, Adrian helped Elliot put the paper away. He felt foolish about his jealousy, but the afternoon had revealed something important.

Elliot had a life beyond their marriage. People who knew him from before Adrian. Work that mattered to him. Adrian wanted to be part of that life, not stand guard over it.

"I'm sorry I acted ridiculous," he said.

"You were only moderately ridiculous."

"Generous assessment."

Elliot touched his arm. "I like that you care. I just don't want to be treated like a prize someone might steal."

"Understood. You're a person, not a trophy."

"A very handsome person."

"The handsomest."

Elliot smiled. Adrian drew him close, then paused as a question occurred to him.

"Did we have a honeymoon?"

"Of course."

"I don't remember it."

"I know."

Adrian rested his hands at Elliot's waist, looking at him seriously.

That night, Elliot found Adrian sitting at the dining table with a notebook open. On the first page, Adrian had written QUESTIONS THAT ARE NOT INTERROGATIONS.

"That's an alarming title," Elliot said.

"I was trying to sound approachable."

Elliot looked over his shoulder. The questions were surprisingly thoughtful: Which projects make you happiest? What do you wish we did more often? What should I never decide for you?

"You wrote these?"

"I considered hiring a consultant, but apparently marriage doesn't have a customer-support department."

Elliot pulled out a chair. "Ask me one."

Adrian chose the last question. Elliot thought for a while.

"Don't make decisions about my work without asking me. Even if you think you're helping."

Adrian nodded and wrote it down.

"My turn," Elliot said. "What do you need when you get overwhelmed?"

Adrian blinked. No one had asked him that since the accident without also holding a medical chart.

"A little quiet," he said finally. "And maybe someone to tell me I don't have to solve everything tonight."

"You don't have to solve everything tonight," Elliot replied.

Adrian smiled. "You're very good at this."

They closed the notebook and shared the last pastry from the morning. Adrian noticed that Elliot took the smaller half without thinking. He exchanged the pieces before Elliot could object.

"You're doing it again," Elliot said.

"What?"

"Trying to take care of me."

"Would you rather have the smaller piece?"

"No," Elliot admitted, laughing. "But ask me next time."

Adrian made a solemn note of that, too.

"Then I think you owe me another one."