Phoebe McQueen, her face a mix of concern and dignity, rushed in, trailing behind the maids who had slammed open the door as she surveyed the wreckage of her son's sanctuary.

Ethan's shoulders sagged. The phantom warmth that had briefly flickered across his features...Ava's warmth...died like a candle snuffed in strong wind.

'Right, an illusion, a hopeless dream borne out of what?'

Longing?

He was longing for Ava?

Why?

Ava was not warm, at least he didn't remember her being warm during ...