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

ildish. I'm facing reality. We are over. T

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

nd, with a faint trace of lingering attachment

ocuments. He looked up at her entrance, presse

wn. I won't sleep here. I'll take the guest room." She

et Maria know," Blake said, lowering his