He shut the notebook, his annoyance hardening into cold indifference. He tossed it back into the box. A ridiculous, childish list. It meant nothing. He found his cufflinks and shut the closet door, the notebook already fading from his mind. He had more important things to think about. He had a custom-made necklace for Ariana in his briefcase. Her art gallery was having its grand opening, and he needed to be there.
He walked into the living room. Caroline was on the couch, sketching on a large pad, her brow furrowed in concentration. She looked up when he entered, a hopeful light in her eyes that he had long ago stopped noticing.
"You' re home early," she said, her voice soft.
"I have to go out again soon," he replied, loosening his tie. "Ariana' s gallery opening."
The light in her eyes dimmed. "Oh. Right."
He saw the notebook on the coffee table, a different one, one of her sketchbooks. He glanced at an open page. It was a drawing of a nursery, detailed and full of soft light. A crib, a mobile with tiny stars, a rocking chair. He felt a strange pang in his chest, an unfamiliar emotion he couldn't place. They had been trying for a child for over a year.
"Is that for a client?" he asked, his voice flat.
Caroline quickly closed the sketchbook. "Just an idea."
He didn' t press. He didn' t care. His mind was on Ariana. He looked at the clock. He should leave soon. He wanted to be the first one there, to see her face when she saw the necklace.
He stood there, a silent wall between them, when his phone rang. It was his best friend, Mark.
"Blake! Turn on the news! Now!" Mark' s voice was frantic.
Blake grabbed the remote and switched on the television. A live news report filled the screen. A building was engulfed in flames. Thick black smoke billowed into the night sky. The reporter' s voice was urgent.
"Firefighters are on the scene at the new Whitfield Gallery downtown, where a massive fire broke out just an hour before its scheduled grand opening..."
Blake' s blood ran cold.
Ariana.
The world narrowed to that single thought. He grabbed his keys, his coat, and bolted for the door without a word to Caroline. He didn' t look back. He didn' t see the look of utter devastation on her face as she watched him go.
Caroline followed him. She didn' t know why. Some desperate, foolish part of her needed to see it for herself. She drove through the city, her hands tight on the steering wheel, her heart pounding a sick rhythm against her ribs.
When she arrived, the scene was chaos. Police barricades, flashing lights, the roar of the fire. Blake had abandoned his car and was arguing with a firefighter, his face a mask of raw panic.
"She' s in there! I have to get her!" Blake yelled, trying to push past the man.
