Page 178 of The Broken Keys

“That’s not what I’m doing. I’m simply saying?—”

“Fine. If you say you haven’t really noticed, then great.” A little defiance from her rears its ugly head. “We can move on as if nothing has been different between us.”

“That’s not what I said. I believe things are very different between us, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say you’ve been rude.”

She studies my face for a moment. “Okay, so I haven’t been rude, but I haven’t been friendly either.”

“Is there a reason for that?”

“Yes.” She glances down, then brings her gaze to mine. “I don’t know why. I can’t explain it, but sometimes when I’m around you I get really…”

“Yes, Livianna. You get really, what?”

“Upset. Hurt even, and I can’t tell you why. It just happens and then I’m mad at you to the point I get massive headaches.”

My chest caves in. “I never want to be the source of your pain. If it’s easier for you, I’ll keep my distance.”

“That’s not what I want.” She takes a sip of her champagne. “What I’m trying to say is, I’d like to be friends.”

“Done.”

“Wait. It’s not that easy. What I mean is, I want to feel like I did the first day I came back to work and you helped me.”

“How did you feel that day?”

She shifts her weight from side to side. “Safe. Cared for. Having you around was… It felt normal.”

“It was normal.” I swirl my drink in my glass. “We spent a lot of time together prior to this.”

“More than we do now?”

“Yes.” I take a swig of my whiskey. “We’re in different places now.”

“Do we have to be?”

“Only if that’s what you want.”

Her face screws up. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“Did we… Um.” Her face turns bright red. She glances around the room. After a few beats, she stares into my eyes. “We’re we ever together in…”

Is she starting to remember?

I take the opportunity to find out. “Together in what?”

A serious relationship? Together in love? What, Livianna, what?

She pulls back as if surprised by my question. She doesn’t say anything, so I press for more.

“I won’t judge anything you ask. If you want to know something, be brave.” I step closer to make the conversation more private. “Ask me whatever you want to know.”

“Okay, but if I’m off base, please just understand my memories are really fuzzy.”

“Done.”

She finishes the rest of her drink, places her flute down on the counter, and blurts out what she wants to say. “See, I had this dream. If I hadn’t woken up in a cold sweat, I would’ve thought it was real.”