A maid found him there to remind him that lunch was being served, and he asked her to tell the others to eat without him; he’d get something from the kitchen when he got hungry. After another hour or more had passed, Henry realized he was tired. He was physically tired from all the months since Kat’s death—and the many months before that—when he'd never gotten a good night’s sleep. And he was worn out from the emotional whirlwind that had taken over his mind and his heart, wreaking havoc with both. He was especially tired of holding it all inside—except for the times when he had told Kat exactly what he thought about her dying and leaving him in this situation. He’d not felt ready to admit to Amala that he too had been talking to Kat’s ghost, except that he’d been more prone to shouting at his dead wife, which was the main reason he took lengthy rides on many days, so that he could get far enough away from the house to not be overheard. But Kat had not been talking back to him, which he supposed meant he was still clinging to his sanity. However, the one-sided conversations were getting old, and he felt certain that if he didn’t start talking to someone mortal, he would lose his sanity.

Once he’d made up his mind, Henry couldn’t find Oliver quickly enough. He loved and trusted this man who had become a father to him, and he was relieved to find him alone in the library.

“Hello, my boy,” Oliver said as Henry closed the door. He took off his glasses and added, “I do hope you’ve come to talk to me because I’ve been wishing that you would.”

“Why?” Henry asked, sitting down across from him. “Because you think I need to talk? Or because you need to talk?”

“Both,” Oliver said. “We both lost her, Henry. And women see things differently than we do in so many ways, bless them. But you have other things on your mind as well, I think.”

Henry nodded and considered where to begin. He said the first thing that came to his mind. “I feel like a fool, Oliver, to realize that you knew Amala and I were romantically involved, which makes me feel like a bigger fool to consider what you and Viola must have thought when I then became romantically involved with Kat. And it feels like it’s all exploded in my face, and I wonder why you haven’t sat me down and given me a proper scolding. I wonder if you think that I deserve to be in this predicament. And maybe I do.”

Oliver was silently thoughtful as he set the book and his glasses aside. “Henry,” he said, “do you think that I am a fool?”

“No, never.”