“Well, no, I don’t know, but I think that’s what you’re supposed to say in situations like these. Not that I’ve ever been in a situation like this.” He was trying to sound light, Eve could tell, but his voice sounded strained instead.

Another patron poked his head into their aisle. He retreated with apologies when he saw Eve and Zach intertwined. Eve listened for more footsteps.

Zach stood up and pulled Eve to her feet. “It will be okay. Because I said so. And I don’t lie.” He placed his hands on her shoulders so she’d look directly into his eyes. “You know, the moment I saw you, I said to myself—because all the great people talk to themselves, of course—I said, ‘Zach, you have to meet that lovely lady, because she will make your life extraordinary.’ I was not wrong.” He took a deep breath and tried to smile. “I’m going to help you remember.”

“You are?” Eve asked.

“You remember that you like to kiss me?” His eyes looked puppy-dog hopeful. “And what happened when you first kissed me?”

“We floated. And then the books in the reading room flew.” She could count the number of good memories that she had on one hand—those were two of them.

“And after that?”

She shook her head.

“We experimented. We learned. We … had our first real date.”

“I don’t remember.” Saying it out loud made her feel as if someone had reached inside and ripped away pieces of her. Those memories were supposed to be hers! She wanted them back.

“Then I will show you.”

He sounded so confident that she nearly smiled in spite of everything.

Taking her hand, he led her deeper into the stacks to a corner where the books were matching yellow and the fluorescent lights flickered and buzzed.

“Relax. All you have to do is give me the magic, and I’ll shape it.” He leaned toward her. “You don’t even have to kiss me. The magic is in your breath. I only have to breathe it in.”

She kissed him anyway, eyes open.

Behind him, she saw books sail off the shelves and then stack themselves around them, interlaced like stones in a wall, closing off their row from the rest of the library. He breathed in her magic again, and green tips of plants burst through the worn carpet. They grew, thickening and sprouting. Curling, they wrapped around the bookshelves and spread across the ceiling tile. Leaves unfurled, and soon the bookshelves and walls were draped in lush summer green. Red buds popped from the bends in the green. And then the buds opened all around them, a riot of burgundy roses.

He picked one and handed it to her. She took it. It still smelled like dusty paper, but when he touched the petals, they changed color, shifting from red to purple to blue to pale yellow. “Lovely,” she said.

“Not done yet,” Zach said. “I can use the magic in multiple ways. I can even hold the magic for a little while before it dissipates. Watch this.”

Again he kissed her, taking her magic through the kiss and then pouring it into the library shelves around them. She saw the painting at the end of the row shimmer. Ripples spread through the paint, and water spilled over the lip of the frame. It soaked into the carpet below, and water lilies sprouted in the dusty fibers. Painted geese swam in circles. “And now,” Zach said, “we dance.” He placed one hand on her back and held the other. She scooted her feet out of the way as he danced forward and backward, and then slowly she began to follow the rhythm. “You taught me this dance, and you described this bower. You said you’d seen it once and had wished you were the one dancing.”

She had? She didn’t remember that. She didn’t remember this!

Backward and forward. Their lips were almost touching, and she breathed with him as their feet danced. They rose into the air, spiraling up as they danced, and they swirled between the books and the roses and the pond on the wall.

She tried to remember … Maybe, yes, maybe I know this … The touch of his hand on her back. The feel of air beneath her shoes. This was familiar. Yes!

She could smell roses in her memory … But they were strewn on a stage. A woman in black and white scooped them into her arms and then waved to the audience. In Eve’s memory, the woman had no face. Eve’s feet faltered.

“What is it?” Zach asked. “What’s wrong? You liked this before. Said you never expected to have made a memory as nice as this. You said that. Remember?”

“I can’t.” She shook her head, as if she could shake the faceless woman out of her memory. “Stop. It’s not helping. Let’s just … stop.”

Gently, he kissed her again, and they drifted down. She felt the carpet under her feet. Around them, the roses began to close. The vines withered and crumbled into dust. The painting stilled, and the water evaporated.

“Oh, don’t stop,” a voice drawled. “He still needs to serenade you or produce a marching band from his pocket.”

Aidan.

Within the wall of books, Aidan lounged against a bookshelf as if he’d been there for hours. He hadn’t changed since her last memory of him. His hair still dusted over his eyebrows, his lips were still curved in a mocking smile, and he was still lovely.

Zach stepped in front of Eve, as if to protect her. “You must be Aidan.”

Aidan tipped an imaginary cap. “And you must be Zach. Kudos on your dedication to getting the girl. Seriously, animated painted swans?”

“You aren’t welcome here,” Zach said.

“It’s a public place. By definition, everyone is welcome.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you.” In front of Eve, Zach crossed his arms, as if attempting to channel Malcolm.

Aidan raised his eyebrows and then looked at Eve. “Eve, does your aunt know what kind of shenanigans you’ve been up to? I hope you’ve been sensible enough to hide it from her. For one thing, she’d be appalled that you fell for this sappy, maudlin mush. For another, if she knew you’ve been transferring your magic to a civilian … How much else have you told him?”

Eve opened her mouth and then shut it.

“Aww, you don’t remember, do you, Green Eyes?” Aidan said, ignoring Zach.

Eve felt as if her blood had turned cold. She couldn’t imagine that she’d told him about her memory losses, though of course she couldn’t remember if she had or not.

“But I’m not here about your extracurriculars. We have much more serious matters to discuss.” Aidan held out his hand, as if he expected Eve to take it. “Come on.”

“Don’t,” Zach said to Eve. “You told me you were warned not to trust him.”

Aidan mimed being stabbed in the chest. “I’m wounded to the quick! Who would say such a dastardly thing about me? Of course you can trust me, Green Eyes. We’re on the same side. This boy … He doesn’t even know there are sides. You think it’s a game, don’t you, local boy? Who can win the girl? Believe me, there’s a lot more at stake.”

Stepping in front of Zach, Eve blocked him. “You’re the one who plays games.”

“It was a test,” Aidan said, “as I have explained to you … and as you have forgotten. A test that you passed with flying colors.” He stretched out his hand again, palm up. “Come with me, and this time, I will explain everything. And more.”

“Everything?” Eve asked. If he had answers …

His smile broadened like a shark in view of a school of fish. “And more,” he promised.

“Eve isn’t going anywhere with you,” Zach said.

“Cute. But naïve. I see why you like him, Green Eyes. There’s such a sweet innocence about him. But it’s time to put away the toys. There are grown-up matters to attend to now.”

“You can’t—” Zach began.

Aidan vanished.

Eve suddenly felt hands on her shoulders.

“Oh yes, I can,” Aidan said.

And the library and Zach vanished around her.

White.

And then red.

And then white, red, white, red, until Eve’s vision cleared and she saw that she faced a wall of red-and-white checkered wallpaper, mirrors, and plaster sculptures of women in draped dresses. Aidan’s hands were tight on her shoulders. She yanked away and fell forward. She caught herself on a table with a red-and-white checkered tablecloth, paper napkins, plastic cups, and menus.