Turning around, her chest to his, she looked up. “You’re seeing me now.” She stepped around him and left the room, left him standing where he was, staring out at the rain-soaked gardens alone.

Rufus called to her but didn’t bother leaving the company of Isla, who had been chatting nonstop since walking into the room. Clara bumped into Taylor and remarked, “For such a pretty girl, she’s moody. Let me know when you’re ready to go upstairs.” She stumbled away and fell into a chair next to Rufus. Taylor could hear her tinkling laugh behind him, and the sound grated on his nerves.

Outside, the rain had stopped and a small familiar figure stepped into the moonlight, her hand running along the hedges as she walked. Taylor hurried from the conservatory.

The house was a maze and he ran checking doors until he found a maid who directed him through the sunroom on the lower floor. He swung the door wide open and ran into the night until he reached Jude. Grabbing her, he pulled her into the shadows near the trimmed rose bushes and kissed her.

He kissed her despite her hands against his chest.

He kissed her holding her to him.

He kissed her until she stopped pushing him away.

He kissed her until she kissed him back.

In the dead cold of winter, their bodies heated as they reconnected. Jude felt alive. She felt stronger than the drugs. She felt wanted. She felt loved and lusted after. Holding him to her, she kissed him until her thoughts fogged and he was the only thing that remained clear.

They shifted and the chilly air came between them. “Why did you leave me?” Taylor asked, feeling the curse of time beating down on them.

“I had no choice. I wouldn’t choose to.” She stepped closer, preferring his heat to the cold.

“Nothing makes sense.”

“Including us.”

Staggering back from her, he needed space, needed clarity, needed to feel less insane. “Who are you?”

“You know me, Hazel.”

“I don’t. I only know what I’ve seen tonight and Judith is not the girl I spent the best week of my life with. I don’t know you right now.”

The best week of mine, too. Tears welled in her eyes. “You know me. You just have to look closer, deeper, underneath…” She started choking on her words and looked down. “Underneath what you see before you.”

He was losing his mind like he’d lost his heart. He ran his fingers through his hair and pulled at the crown. “What is going on, Jude? Please tell me.” He stumbled into the light and his face looked fragmented, shifting between torture and concern.

“You’ve drunk too much tonight.”

Arrogance slipped out, and he snapped, “I haven’t even gotten started.”

Images of him staggering into the dining room with Clara Stevens produced a new emotion, one she had never felt before—jealousy. “You started before I even showed up. That shade of lipstick did nothing for you,” she mentioned offhandedly.

“Fuck! Why won’t you talk to me? You came into my life, disrupting my peace—the peace that took me years to find—and destroyed it.”

“You were living in the past. A disruption is what you needed to finally put that picture of your ex-girlfriend away. I think I’m owed a thank you.” Her insides untied and she calmed, hating that these would be her memories of them, replacing the magical ones they had once made. “Why are we fighting? You can kiss who you want. You can fuck who you want. You owe me nothing, Taylor.”

He swayed, unable to stop the storms that raged inside. “Stop calling me that!”

“This is why we’re no good. This is why I couldn’t come back. We know nothing about each other and we’re fighting like we have that right, like we have a future.”

“We know each other.” Rushing forward he took her by the arms and bent his legs until he was eye level with her. “Look at me, Jude. You know me. I know you. I know the real you. I know everything that’s important about you.”

“You don’t know the dark that follows me like my own shadow. It’s a part of me that can’t be fixed.”

“Then show me your shadow, show me the dark. When I told my parents that it felt like we’d known each other our whole lives, I meant it. You gave me that and now you’re taking it away. It doesn’t work like that though. What we had you can’t just erase. That week meant something to me, even if you act like it meant nothing to you.”

She shook her head. “You only know a medicated girl you met at a party that made you feel alive for a short time. I can’t be that girl.” I can’t go back to the center. I can’t drag you down with me. “I can’t be her anymore. Not even for you. This is me. This is the only me that is left.”

“You keep saying that, but I don’t believe you. I don’t know who this Judith is tonight, but that’s not who you are. Medicated or not. You showed me the real girl that week, so I’m not going to believe your lies now.”

Her glassy eyes stared into his impossibly gorgeous eyes, and she weakened and said, “Jude is gone. Judith is all that remains. Don’t you see? You met me under a drug-induced haze of pink pills. Save yourself the trouble and let that girl go.” Just as a tear slipped down, she glanced up and over his shoulder.

He followed her gaze and saw Clara and Rufus watching them from the conservatory, their bodies silhouetted by the light that shined behind them. Rufus drank from a glass that sparkled and Clara walked out of the room. Rufus gave a lazy salute, then left as well. He wanted to ask her about the pink pills, but something more pressing was threatening. Taylor turned to her and swallowed hard. “He’ll destroy you, Jude.”

“No more than I already am.”

Walking side by side, he stopped with his shoulder against hers, not able to look at her. “I cared about you.”

“I know. That’s why it’s called a tragedy.”

The reference to the devastation to his heart did nothing for his mood or the pain he felt. He didn’t want to live a real-life tragedy. He’d been living that long before her. Taylor walked back to the house, leaving her standing there.

Minutes later when Jude entered the house, her parents clapped their hands in delight at the other end of the hall. “Oh good, you’re still here,” proclaimed her mother.

“Of course.” She walked to the front door. Voices carried from the library drawing her attention to the left as she passed the dark wood-paneled room. Taylor stood leaning against the mantle, a fire roaring in the fireplace, his back to her. Clara was talking vividly to a man she was too clueless to notice wasn’t listening. Rufus sat on a chair opposite Isla, facing the hall. He grinned and raised his glass to Jude, who kept walking.

Her stepfather smiled, and asked, “Are you ready to go, honey?”

“I am. Thank you so much for having us. Dinner was lovely,” she said, the robotic response programmed when she was young.

Her parents got into the car and then she got in. When the door shut, she glanced up and saw Taylor, her Hazel, watching her through the tall window. She couldn’t see his eyes, but she could feel the heat of his gaze on her. A fire started in her heart, an attraction that would burn them both. The car drove away and she started breathing again.

Her mother patted her hand. “You did good, honey. You did good.”

As the buildings rolled by outside, one after the other, she replied, “Thank you.”

Back in the library, Clara ran her hand up Taylor’s back, and over his shoulders, squeezing his muscles. “Come with me.”

“Have you no dignity?” he asked and jerked out of her hold. Walking to the door, he took his coat from the rack and opened the door. Letting the cold air hit him, he walked down the steps to the sidewalk, leaving the front door wide open. He put his coat on and headed for the corner where he hailed a cab.

Shortly after, Taylor entered his apartment and poured himself another drink before removing his coat. He didn’t even bother with ice this time. The warm liquid coated his insides, fanning the flame that burned inside his chest. Boehler. Brewster. Renee. Judith. Boehler. He set the empty glass down on the bar and took his coat and suit jacket off.