The sun was still high.

Golden.

Warm.

Deceiving.

We sat on the blanket, the remnants of sandwiches and fruit scattered between us. The lake shimmered. A breeze carried the scent of cut grass and distant barbecue. Birds chirped. Laughter echoed from a nearby playground.

It was the kind of afternoon people frame.

And in the middle of it, Julian Vale looked at another woman.

Not long.

Not boldly.

Just a flicker.

A woman in a red sundress walked past — tall, tan, hair flowing — and ...