“Tonight?”

“For a little bit. I was in the middle of something when I had to come in and get ready for the party. Shouldn’t take me long.”

I move over to the counter, put a steadying hand on the edge. I finish my wine and hold out my glass to Jay. His eyes meet mine, and I smile, reassure him. “I’m fine, really.”

He fills my glass, sets it on the table, and wraps his arms around me. “I have everything I need right here,” he says.

Cal and Josh walk into the kitchen. Josh raises his empty glass. “What’s the holdup?” He laughs. “Can’t keep their hands off each other,” he says to Cal.

“Do you blame me?” Jay says, brushing my long hair back over my shoulder.

I pull myself free and walk to the fridge. “Time for this, birthday boy.” I set the box on the counter, lift the cake out. It’s a canvas of sky-blue fondant with a garden of glistening orange and yellow flowers.

“Whoa. That’s incredible. Be a shame to cut it,” Jay says.

“They do a great job at André’s,” I say, removing a knife from the cutlery drawer.

“Chocolate or vanilla?” Cal asks.

Laken walks into the room. “God, Cal. It’s Jay. Chocolate!”

Cal shrugs. “Maybe he got adventurous.” The kitchen fills up with the rest of our friends, and I reach for the birthday candles.

Jay grabs my hand. “It would be a shame to ruin that beautiful cake with those!” But he’s smiling. “What the hell? You only turn forty once, right?”

* * *

I know there is something wrong when I open my eyes and don’t smell coffee. Jay isn’t beside me in our king-size bed. He usually wakes before I do, but there’s always the aroma of his favorite drink permeating the house. Jay’s one of those people who sleeps only four or five hours a night. An inveterate coffee drinker, he downs five or six cups a day, enough to give most people a serious case of the jitters, but he thrives on it. I’ve gotten conditioned to that morning scent filling the house and my lids popping open, like clockwork.

The kitchen is cold, coffeepot sitting on the counter, empty and untouched.

“Jay?” I call, my voice echoing through the house. My heartbeat kicks up. I walk to the back door, peer outside. The door to Jay’s office is wide open. I fly down the porch steps and across the yard, my bare feet churning through the snow.

I stumble across the threshold. He isn’t here.

“Jay?”

No answer. I move farther into the room, past the desk and space heater. Then I see him, lying on the floor, blood spattered on the wall and in a pool around his head. I drop to my knees, grab his hand. “Jay!”

But it’s no use. He can’t hear me. He’s cold, lifeless. His neck gapes open beneath his stubbled chin. He’s still dressed in the clothes he was wearing last night. His eyes are half-shut, and his dark hair is soaked in the puddle surrounding him. I fall back against the filing cabinet, screams erupting from someplace deep in my soul.