  &quot;I'm home,&quot; I yell out into the apartment, dropping my keys on the hall table. There's soft jazz music coming from Sarah's room, the distinct smell of Marcus's aftershave in the sitting room, and a half empty bottle of wine and two glasses on the table. I sigh, bristling inside and ponder showing up at Jake's apartment for the night as he offered. I should have stopped over, instead of the extra car journey home; we'd be watching a movie by now.
      There's no response from the closed bedroom so I assume they don't want to be disturbed. I don't attempt to call out again. I just go to my room and dump my luggage by the bed, glad to be home, yet at the same time the familiar pang of missing Jake is already washing over me.
      We have worked together so much over the last few months, glued side by side, so being apart feels abnormal. Even though we do occasionally spend wee

  It's the middle of the night by the time we land in Chicago, and the hired driver takes me to West Englewood. The streets are badly lit, but don't conceal the grubbiness or derelict area from view. The streets, although busy with traffic, seem almost deserted. The aura of poverty and hardship reflected in the brown buildings and scruffy stores and I get that old ripple of trepidation as unease moves through me and that weight of emptiness I used to feel at being here returns with a vengeance.
      I'm to meet Sophie at my old home, the apartment that my mother has lived in since the day she brought me home from the hospital. My mother is stable in St Bernard Hospital, but I won't be able to see her until morning to assess how much damage has been done.
      I'm still numb with a tinge of anger even thinking about her. I know this isn't natural—she's my mother. I should feel concern, 

  I don't get much sleep. I stare at the ceiling listening to the silence in the dark before dawn finally tugs me out of bed. I jog alone at 6.00 a.m. the familiar route I normally take with Jake, but he's still in bed and avoiding him is my only plan of action this morning.
      I pound the picturesque streets of Seattle with my soft-soled running shoes and try to bring back all the calm and control that rules my life. We need to forget last night ever happened if we're to move on. I need to stop over analyzing and obsessing over it and forget it ever happened.
      He was drunk! Jake's impulsive and sometimes irrational when he's drunk; he can be unpredictable and foolish, and I shouldn't put any weight on last night at all. He's a born womanizer and last night with beer goggles on I was just another possible conquest who was obviously giving him some sort of come-on signs.
      I s

&quot;I'm home,&quot; I yell out into the apartment, dropping my keys on the hall table. There's soft jazz music coming from Sarah's room, the distinct smell of Marcus's aftershave in the sitting room, and a half empty bottle of wine and two glasses on the table. I sigh, bristling inside and ponder showing up at Jake's apartment for the night as he offered. I should have stopped over, instead of the extra car journey home; we'd be watching a movie by now.
      There's no response from the closed bedroom so I assume they don't want to be disturbed. I don't attempt to call out again. I just go to my room and dump my luggage by the bed, glad to be home, yet at the same time the familiar pang of missing Jake is already washing over me.
      We have worked together so much over the last few months, glued side by side, so being apart feels abnormal. Even though we do occasionally spend weekends apart, somehow the recent non-stop chaos of trips and work days flowing into each other has me

Chapter 12