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Instead of continuing toward the steps, Reagan turned and faced her. Her inexorable dark eyes searching her face as if unravelling a mystery. Libby had never felt like some precious relic that needed deciphering. Until she’d been on the receiving end of Reagan’s gaze.

“You know that ex of yours must have been a certified chump to let you go, right?” Reagan’s tone was so sincere.

“You’re not the first person to come to that conclusion,”

&

nbsp; she joked, wanting to steer clear of the Davis topic. He’d ruined enough of her evenings for a lifetime. “Come on. Let me show you the best part.”

Without thinking, Libby reached for her hand. It had been so natural that it wasn’t until Reagan intertwined their fingers that she realized what she’d done. As she started for the sliding glass door leading toward the balcony, she did her best to wrestle her jackhammering heart into submission. She failed.

At least the walk was short and the view distracting. As soon as they stepped outside, Reagan released her fingers and darted toward the railing to peer over the side.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen any part of the river that wasn’t all gross and polluted,” she gushed, her short hair blowing in the breeze.

Staring at Reagan’s body half hanging over the metal railing, Libby couldn’t stop the horrifying image of an unexpected gust knocking her over the side. She couldn’t help pulling her by the shirt tail and back onto firmer

footing. “Didn’t your parents ever tell you the devil is bad and always watching?”

Reagan’s belly laugh was carried away by the cool winds as she plopped into a patio chair, allowing Libby to take a full breath. “Of course. The way my parents made it sound, his one job was to lay in wait and shove unsuspecting children into lethal accidents. Couldn’t run around the pool. Couldn’t sit on a ledge. Definitely could never go near the stove.”

Libby chuckled. “Do you think any other culture frightens their kids like that? Because let me tell you . . . I’m thirty-two years old and all I could picture was you plummeting to your death.”

Siting together on the balcony, they looked out at dark, clear skies and the twinkle of city lights like modern constellations.

“Man, I’d set up a hammock out here and never leave,”

Reagan said as she stretched like a cat. “I suppose living in the middle of a rat’s maze isn’t all bad.”

When Reagan ventured back to the railing to get a better look, Libby followed and held back the urge to tell her she was getting too close again. Struggling with her natural desire to catastrophize, she tried to be in the moment with Reagan and the city buzzing below them.

“Not afraid a nefarious entity is going to push you to your doom?” Reagan joked as she glanced at Libby, who was sliding into the space next to her.

“Looks like I’m willing to risk it,” she replied, her elbow grazing Reagan’s arm before she braced against the banister.

“When am I going to see your place?”

Reagan turned from the view and focused her attention on Libby. “You’ve already seen it.”

Cocking her head to one side, Libby furrowed her brow.

There was only one place she’d been, but that wasn’t a home. “You live in your art studio?”

“It’s a lot more than just an art studio,” Reagan replied, the overhead light dancing in her eyes. “It has been my home since before I was born.”

Libby stepped forward, getting close enough to feel the warmth of Reagan’s body. It was a gravitational pull willing her closer. “What do you mean?”

“My grandparents worked there when it used to be a ceramics factory. My grandma just briefly, but my grandpa until it was shut down and most of the machinery sold o ,”

she explained.

“What did they make there?”

“Nothing exciting.” She grinned. “My gramps worked in the kilns baking tera cotta roof tiles. He loved it though.”

“When did it shut down?”

Her dark eyes shifted away from Libby and out to the slow-moving river before she returned her gaze. “The early 90s. I never got to see it while it was operating, but whenever we’d drive around the area he’d take me there and tell me stories about what he made and the people he worked with.”