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In. Out. In. Out.

It helped, and within a minute, my head had stopped spinning and my pulse rate had dropped. I tried to sit up, embarrassed that I was prostrate on the floor and causing all this fuss.

“Lie still,” Dylan barked. His face was pale, his expression frosty.

He’d turned into professional Doctor Dyl. My guilt rose and surged through me.

I’m such an inconvenience.

He checked my pulse again, and when he was satisfied, he sat back on his heels and blew out a long breath. “That’s better. What the hell was that about?” His tone was abrasive, surprising and wounding me a little.

Why is he angry? Some bedside manner he has!

But I couldn’t tell him I’d seen someone; he’d think I was psychotic.

He would not be wrong.

Registering my reaction, he softened his voice. “You frightened the life out of me. What happened?”

I wracked my brain for an excuse that excluded mentioning the delusion. “I think I had a panic attack.”

“Because you were playing your cello?” His brows knitted together, and I knew he didn’t believe me.

“No. Just… I don’t know!” I snapped, flustered and angry.

He eased back, surprised at my outburst. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I came in to ask why you’d stopped. Your playing was stunning, Emily. I knew you played, but I had no idea you were so talented.” He regarded me for a second, his expression unreadable. “How are you feeling now? You have some color back in your cheeks.”

“Better, I think.”

“Good.”

Abruptly, he stood and offered me his hands, which I took, so he could help me to my feet. He didn’t release me until he was certain I wasn’t going to faint. When he was sure I was steady on my feet, he dropped his hands.

“It’s lack of food,” he grumbled. “You never finished your breakfast. From now on, I will make sure that You. Eat. Properly.” He enunciated each word so it sounded like a threat and made me feel like a young child.

I glared at him, but he ignored my look and turned to leave.

“Go put something nice on. I’m taking you out for lunch,” he said from the doorway. “I could do with the fresh air,” he muttered as an afterthought, more to himself than to me, before disappearing into his bedroom.

I breathed a sigh of relief and turned to where the beautiful young man had been standing.

There was nothing.

Glancing back at the door to check that Dylan couldn’t see me, I moved to where the strange guy had leaned against the wall. Reaching out, I waved my hands in the empty space, but there was nothing there.

Why am I seeing things?

The answer was simple and automatic.

Your grief, that’s why.

I had to pull myself together. This was ridiculous. Chiding myself once more, I repacked my beloved cello into her case and tried to dismiss the tousled-haired young man from my dreams out of my mind.

Chapter VI Meltdown

Gazing down at the contents of my suitcase, I realized something nice was a challenge. I’d never been into clothes, which was another reason why I was teased at school. I was so… basic. My staple had always been jeans and T-shirts. I rooted through my suitcase for one of my two dresses and found my dark-green sleeveless shift dress.

This is the best I can do under the circumstances.