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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
