Morning arrived at the lake house the way it always did out here, without the city pushing it along. Just light coming through the curtain slowly, the lake catching it first and sending it back into the room in soft broken pieces, the air cool and clean through the slightly open window.
Liam opened his eyes.
The ceiling of the lake house bedroom looked back at him. He lay there for a moment taking stock of things, the warmth of the bed, the sound of the water outside, the smell of something coming from the kitchen that had no business smelling that good at whatever hour this was.
He sat up.
A tray was on the bed beside him. Eggs done properly, toast, something that looked like it had fruit beside it, a glass of orange juice sitting next to a mug of coffee that was still sending up a thin thread of steam.
He looked at the tray.
Then at the empty side of the bed where Elena had been.
He picked up a fork.
