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them, watching a classic or some comedy. Or a drama. Giana

probably liked thrillers.

“What did we like to do together?”

The question ripped Coralyn right out of her little fantasy.

She didn’t want to tell more lies. She wanted to tell the truth.

“That’s hard to answer.”

“Well, I was thinking that maybe when you said you needed

some space and some time, you were right. We both have a lot

going on. I can’t remember anything and you just—I’m so

sorry about your dad, Coralyn. I truly am.”

“Thank you.” That was the appropriate response, wasn’t it?

She’d be hearing it from now on. So often. Like she’d heard it

after her mom died. She’d spend the rest of her life hearing it.

The silence went on until Giana broke it, speaking in a

hushed whisper. “I thought that maybe we could hold off on

you moving in. I think we need time to get to know each other

again. I don’t know when my memory is going to come back,

or if it will. You said things about me, and I don’t want them

to be true. I want to be a different person. I thought that

maybe, if you’re up for it, we could go on a date once a week.

Then more often.”

It was a logical solution and Coralyn really had no way to

argue out of it. She should be leaping at the chance to put

distance between them, but right now, she wanted to cling to

the illusion that she had someone, someplace to go, a home

and a family, more than anything. Even if it was Giana. The

very woman she’d basically vowed to destroy.

I wasn’t vowing to destroy her when she had me pressed up

against the wall. I wanted her to destroy me instead.

The thought blindsided Coralyn. Who was she to be