room door, but paused. She could hear Blake's vo

h the narrow glass

something. The expression on his face was one she had n

reached up and, with a casua

le pattern. The tie she had picked out for him this morning. The tie she ha

it for what it was: a joke. He wore the tie his wife had chose

turned abruptly and walked quickly to the w

ring at her reflection. She took deep, shudd

ne buzzed. The meeti

fiant color, and walked back into that co

consummate professional. Her voice was

s of the table, but she could feel his eyes on he

first one out of her chair, gather

wasn't there. She started packing her personal belong

ight, he came home. H

es in the living room, and his fa

said, her voice flat. "It see

here," he said. It wasn't

ddress was a deliberate sting. "I have no

g around her wrist. "Celina, don't be childish. Even if we

'm not being childish. I'm

standoff, the air thic

desk. He saw the L. X. record, placed carefull

st for a fraction of a seco

red history. A tiny, treacherous part of her wanted to believe he had rememb

icked up a box and carried it into the

stening as the sounds from the

tracing the artist's name. This last, fragile illusion

gering attachment, she let her gaze sweep over the penthouse that had been