“Livia reached out to touch Blake’s lower back. She outlined a heart with her finger. I’m proud of you, no matter what happens here.”

“He locked eyes with Livia, and his face became serious. “Com’ere, Whitebread.” He held out his hand and enveloped her as soon as she got close.She started to cry softly in his chest.“Don’t cry. I’m so motherfucking proud of you. You hold your beautiful face up. Stand proud.”He rubbed her back and motioned Blake over with his head. Beckett twirled her into Blake’s arms. She looked back to give him a sad smile from her warm place by Blake’s heart.”

“You can play. You can play. You can play! Livia leaned against the wall, her aches and pains and shivering chill melting away now that Blake’s playing had become something beautiful. She tilted her head back and opened her mouth, as if to drink the music. She couldn’t imagine how he created it—it sounded as if three people must be playing. She heard bells, then the notes sounded like voices. So clearly the music sang to her: Blake loves Livia. Blake loves Livia. She stretched her arms out and dug her fingers into the rough, scratchy brick, trying to hug him from the outside of the church. She wiped tears from her cheeks. She wanted to run inside and see him creating. She wanted to see his strong arms and intuitive fingers crafting the notes. Blake’s sounds enchanted her.”

“Livia wanted to get back to Blake’s music. It had filled her dreams.”

“Livia now saw clearly what she needed to do. She would break up with Chris this weekend. She sighed with satisfaction and the lingering effects of Blake’s kiss, now tattooed on her heart.”

“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.”