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apartment, the place he’d moved into when he’d left her. He was wearing a pair of trendy khakis and a plain white tee shirt that emphasised the broadness of his shoulders. Still, she could see the tension in his muscles, the tendons in his neck straining. She figured he had every right to feel nervous.
    He paused, glancing across at her. ‘Thanks for sorting this out.’
    ‘No problem.’
    She’d spoken to the concierge, explained the situation and arranged for a spare key for Stefan. Claire hadn’t minded. In fact, she felt better when occupied with a task.
    Turning the key, Stefan pushed the door open and swept one hand forward to usher Claire ahead.
    ‘No, you go first,’ she said.
    She was wary, and didn’t know what lay ahead or what she might find.
    Walking ahead, Stefan took a good look around, giving Claire the chance to check the room out.
    She should have guessed how the apartment would look: white walls, dark floorboards, minimal furniture, not a painting on the walls. No fuss, no clutter, nothing that didn’t need to be there. This felt more like a hotel than a home.
    So this was what he’d left her for, what his life had become after he and Claire parted.
    ‘I’ll take a seat,’ she said.
    The sofa was a little too firm for her liking but this wouldn’t take long. At least, Claire hoped it wouldn’t, as she wasn’t planning on getting comfortable.
    Stefan pointed to a door that lead off from the living area. ‘Are the bedrooms through there?’
    ‘I guess so,’ Claire said. He looked at her quizzically. ‘I’ve never been here before.’
    Stefan’s brow furrowed, as if he hadn’t considered that possibility. ‘I’ll take a quick look around and get some clothes.’
    He opened his mouth and for a moment Claire had the horrible feeling he was going to ask her to come with him. If so, then she’d refuse. Instead Stefan said, ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’
    Claire nodded and watched him walk off. Glancing around nervously, she found herself wishing she hadn’t come. She should have waited downstairs, but instead she’d walked straight into the lion’s den.
    She didn’t belong here, shouldn’t be here, but it was too late now.
    Claire wished there was a magazine on the coffee table for her to flick through, something to keep her occupied. Looking down at her hands in her lap, she tried to empty her mind, to think of nothing. She didn’t want to think about what Stefan might find here, didn’t want to think there might be clues to a life he’d enjoyed that were better than the one he’d had with her.
    Minutes later, Claire heard the door open and saw Stefan heading towards a small cabinet, on top of which the flat-screen television sat.
    ‘What’s in there?’ she asked.
    Stefan rummaged around, knocking the contents around. ’A heap of CDs. That’s all.’
    Moving on, he bounded towards the kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers and then slamming them shut, searching
    Puzzled, Claire called out, ‘What are you doing?’
    Stefan came back into the living room and stood, hands on hips. ‘There’s nothing here.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘There’s nothing here,’ he repeated. ‘The kitchen has the bare basics and nothing in there looks like it’s been touched. There are some toiletries in the bathroom, clothes in the closet and that’s about it.’
    Stefan, standing there with his goatee and too-long hair, had chosen this apartment and lived here after he left her. Yet as he stared at her, those striking blue eyes glimmered with something unpleasant—frustration or perhaps blame? As if she could be held accountable.
    ‘What else were you expecting?’ she asked
    ‘Signs of a personality, a life, some clues about the man who lived here. This is driving me crazy.’ He glanced around, his lip curling in disgust. ‘God, there’s got to be something here.’
    ‘The apartment is very…minimalistic,’ Claire said, stumbling upon the right word.
    ‘No, it’s