Jessica pushed her silky dark hair back and frowned at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were still weary from a night of staring blindly at the ceiling overhead.

Last night had been a sleepless one. Duncan's words had played endlessly in her mind like some badly scratched recording. Over and over she heard him ask "Doesn't our love deserve the same chance?”

What irony! Duncan McKechnie, who usually operated purely on emotion and impulse, had presented her with an argument worthy of the Supreme Court.

“In time, we'll learn to forgive.” Those damning words were indeed hers. In the face of such truth Jessica could only concede his point. What did it say about her that she was willing to leave a door open to everyone but Duncan – the man she'd married, the father of her child? It was a question Jessica had asked herself repeatedly last night. And never got an answer.

Sighing, she splashed her face with cool water and patted it dry. Though she had gotten up early from her bed and showered, Jessica still felt sluggish. Perhaps a glass of juice might help.

Jessica walked barefoot into the suite's brightly lit kitchen and pulled a pitcher of orange juice from the midsize refrigerator. She had barely finished pouring a glassful when the phone rang. Quickly she moved to pick it up. Perhaps it was Duncan, who was spending time alone downstairs with Bonnie.

“Hello?”

“Good morning, Jessica.” Stefan's cultured voice sounded in her ear. “I trust I did not awaken you.”

“No,” she smiled weakly. “I've been up quite awhile. Good morning.”

Some hint of Jessica's subdued tone must have alerted Stefan to her mood. “Is something amiss?” he demanded to know. “Perhaps I can be of assistance.”

“Just a restless night.” She skillfully deflected the question. “How have you been?”

Stefan did not respond. After a moment of silence, he spoke. “Jessica, excuse me, please. There is a matter I must attend to personally.”

“Yes, of course,” she murmured, regretful that his call would be cut short. “Thank you anyway for calling.” Jessica had barely voiced the words when she was greeted by the sound of the dial tone. While it seemed that the matter Stefan spoke of truly did demand his immediate attention, Jessica could not help feeling a sense of disappointment. His brief call had already begun to distract her mind from the confusing thoughts of last night.

She returned to the kitchen and her glass of juice. Now slightly warm, it no longer held appeal. Jessica grimaced in a manner reminiscent of Bonnie and raised the glass to her lips nonetheless. A firm tapping upon the door saved her.

Curious, Jessica opened the door.

“Stefan?”

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