“But it was a lie. She just craved more time with Blake. During those minutes each morning and evening, she felt herself becoming someone she’d never been before. Not someone else, really, but fully herself. She basked in Blake’s attention.”

“She’d been with Blake for over an hour. It felt like minutes.”

“She needed to move quickly and get back to Beckett. She wanted to hold his big hand and make sure he didn’t kill anyone when Blake died.If. If Blake dies, she admonished herself.”

“With every step she felt herself harden. She was a walking statue by the time she hit the police station’s exit.She had a purpose again. Hate.Eve cuddled hate to her heart like a baby—like the only baby she’d ever have. Eve despised reliving the accident, but she had to do it to get harder. She needed to be angrier.”

“Livia pictured herself holding Blake’s hand on a walk in the forest, the sun prickling through the leaves to dance on his face. She pictured his smile. She imagined she felt the gentle touch of his finger on her cheek. She pressed her lips together. He will kiss me again. I know it.”

“Livia nodded and unwrapped a pink page from the stem of her bouquet. She spoke softly, so only Blake could hear her. But the audience felt the moment by watching Blake’s eyes as she spoke.”

“Eve paused to let her words sink into the soil of his fatherly impulses. “Blake’s not doing good—you know that. It’s more than possible he won’t make it. Being with the one you love at the end is almost as important as the beginning. It’s a mark in time, before and after. That tiny bit of time in the middle? You never stop thinking about that. She needs to be with Blake.”