He still looked good, of course. He always looked good, no matter the condition of his clothing and hair. It was one of the more annoying things about him. This rumpled look made him come across as some pensive European model. Studying him as we took the elevator to the second floor lobby, I decided it couldn’t be a coincidence that the most disheveled outfit I’d ever seen Adrian in had fallen on the day he had a father-son visit. The question was: why? He’d complained that his dad always found fault with him. Dressing this way seemed like Adrian was just providing one more reason.

The elevator opened, and I gasped as we stepped out. The back wall of the lobby was almost entirely covered with windows that offered a dramatic view of the Pacific. Adrian chuckled at my reaction and took out his cell phone. “Take a closer look while I call the old man.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I walked over to one of the glass walls, admiring the vast, blue-gray expanse. I imagined that on cloudy days, it would be hard to tell where sky ended and ocean began. The weather was gorgeous out today, full of sun and a perfectly clear azure-blue sky. On the lobby’s right side, a set of doors opened up onto a Mediterranean style balcony where diners were enjoying lunch out in the sun. Looking down to ground level, I caught sight of a sparkling pool as blue as the sky, surrounded in palm trees and sunbathers. I didn’t have the same longing for water that a magic user like Jill possessed, but I had been living in the desert for almost two months. This was amazing.

I was so transfixed with the beauty outside that I didn’t notice Adrian’s return. In fact, I didn’t even notice he was standing right beside me until a mother calling for her daughter—also named Sydney—made me glance aside. There, I saw Adrian only inches away, watching me with amusement.

I flinched and stepped back a little. “How about some warning next time?”

He smiled. “I didn’t want to interrupt. You looked happy for a change.”

“For a change? I’m happy lots of times.”

I knew Adrian well enough to recognize the sign of an incoming snarky comment. At the last second, he changed course, his expression turning serious. “Does that guy—that Brendan guy—”

“Brayden.”

“Does that Brayden guy make you happy?”

I looked at Adrian in surprise. These kinds of questions were almost always a setup from him, but his neutral face made it hard to guess his motives this time.

“I guess,” I said at last. “Yeah. I mean, he doesn’t make me unhappy.”

That brought Adrian’s smile back. “Red-hot answer if ever there was one. What do you like about him? Aside from the car? And that he smells like coffee?”

“I like that he’s smart,” I said. “I like that I don’t have to dumb myself down around him.”