“I guess I should have knocked.” His voice was dead calm. Viciously calm.

“No, of course not.” There were butterflies in her stomach, and their wings were razor-sharp. “Charlie, this is Alexi. I’ve told you about him.”

“Sure. Think I met you at Bess’s last party.” Lanky, long-haired and obviously oblivious to the tension throbbing in the air, he gave Bess’s shoulders a squeeze. “She gives the best.”

Alex set the flowers aside. One fragile bloom fell from the table and was ignored. “So I’ve heard.”

“Well, I’ve got to be going.” Charlie bent to give Bess another kiss. Alex’s hands clenched. “You won’t let me down?”

“Of course not.” She worked up a smile, grateful that Charlie was too preoccupied to sense the falseness of it. “You know how happy I am for you, Charlie. I’ll be in touch.”

He went out cheerfully, calling out a last farewell before he shut the door. In the silence, Alex noticed the music for the first time. Violins and flutes whispered out of her stereo. Very romantic, he thought, and his teeth clenched like his fists.

“Well.” Her eyes were burning dry, though her heart was weeping. “I can see I should explain.” She walked over to the wine she’d poured for Charlie and topped off her glass. “I can also see that you’ve already made up your mind, so explanations would be pointless.”

“You move fast, Bess.”

She was glad she had her back to him for a moment. Very glad, because her hand trembled as she lifted the wine. “Do you think so, Alexi?”

“Or maybe you’ve been seeing him all along.”

“You can say that?” Now she turned, and the first flashes of anger burst through her. “You can stand there and say that to me?”

“What the hell do you expect me to say?” he shot back. He didn’t go near her. Didn’t dare. “I walk in here and find you with him. A little music, a nice bottle of wine.” He wished he had been shot. It couldn’t possibly hurt more than this bite of betrayal. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“No. No, I don’t.” She needed to sit, but she locked her knees straight. “But I must be to have been so careless as to have an assignation here when you were bound to find me out.” Her eyes were like glass as she toasted him. “Caught me.”

He took a step forward, stopped himself. “Are you going to tell me you didn’t sleep with him?”

In the thrum of silence, the flutes sang. “No, I’m not going to tell you that. I’m not ashamed that I once cared enough for a very good man to be intimate with him. I’d tell you that I haven’t been with Charlie or anyone else since I met you, but the evidence is against me, isn’t it, Detective?”

She was so tired, Bess thought, so terribly tired, and the scent of the lilacs made her want to weep. Rosalie’s funeral had been that morning, and she’d quietly made the arrangements herself. She’d gone alone, without mentioning it to Alex. But she’d needed him.