171 Blow Me (One Last Kiss)

A/N: Happy Victoria Day, 2017 from Canada! This takes place right after the events of the July 11 Candi chapter 170 and is set to follow the events of 168 at the cop shop, where Phaya and Miles came by and Ema was a mess because of what happened with her and the fop July 10.

Thanks to Danny Dragon, aka mi amiga musica, for the chapter song suggestion. If there’s a better song for Klema at this point in the game out there, I certainly didn’t know of one!

Also, this chapter is dedicated to hilarious fanfic writer CzarThwomp. I’m sure he’ll figure out why! :p

This is the conclusion of the SkyeFop arc for now – next chapter, back to Miles and company! – so it’s a long read! Enjoy!

Sometimes I hate every single stupid word you say
Sometimes I wanna slap you in your whole face
There’s no one quite like you
You push all my buttons down
I know life would suck without you

At the same time, I wanna hug you
I wanna wrap my hands around your neck
You’re an asshole but I love you
And you make me so mad I ask myself
Why I’m still here, or where could I go
You’re the only love I’ve ever known
But I hate you, I really hate you,
So much, I think it must be

True love, true love
It must be true love
Nothing else can break my heart like
True love, true love,
It must be true love
No one else can break my heart like you

Just once try to wrap your little brain around my feelings
Just once please try not to be so mean
Repeat after me now R-O-M-A-N-C-E-E-E
Come on I’ll say it slowly (Romance)
You can do it, baby

(I love you, I think it must be love, I love you)

Why do you rub me up the wrong way?
Why do you say the things that you say?
Sometimes I wonder how we ever came to be
But without you I’m incomplete

I think it must be
True love, true love
It must be true love
Nothing else can break my heart like
True love, true love,
It must be true love
And no one else can break my heart like you (like you)
No one else can break my heart like you (like you)
No one else can break my heart like you

Ema Skye
Criminal Affairs
July 12, 2026, 3:00 PM

As the day crept forward, Ema’s confusion began to grow and her tension continued to increase the more she thought about what had happened between her and Klavier.

Thoroughly disgusted with herself for getting worried to the point of distraction, she remained stationed in her office, trying to concentrate on her work, unable to carry on any sort of intelligent conversation with Chief Gumshoe whenever he’d popped in, and skipping lunch to remain at her desk, feeling like she had no appetite.

She anxiously wondered how Klavier would act towards her after the other night. Her mind revolved around the possibilities, unable to leave them alone.

Perhaps he would despise her for letting him even take the liberties he’d taken – even as Disney-rated as they were! – considering how drunk he’d been. Maybe he would hate himself for admitting he liked her and didn’t want to let her go. Perchance he hadn’t meant any of the sweet things he’d said.

“I also like the way your eyes sparkle like jewels whenever you get excited and talk about science,” he’d told her, sliding his warm hands over her shoulder and up and down her bare arm, making electric jolts surge throughout her body. “And I like the sound of your laughter. I like the way your cheeks flush and turn pink when you’re angry…”

Not once since that night had she permitted herself to dwell on the pleasure his lips against her skin had given her; how she’d tingled head to toe from being pressed up against his virile physique, and how her heart had raced when he’d told her that try as he might, he couldn’t let her go.

Now she couldn’t seem to think of anything else.

How tempting he’d made it seem to try to befriend him.

As tempting as sin, she admitted to herself. As foolish as trying to befriend the devil. And probably just as dangerous.

She was quite certain that most of his actions that night had been induced by high blood alcohol levels, but she wanted very much to believe some sort of closer friendship, rather than their current uncertain one, would result from letting the barriers down between them. In the past weeks, she had come to not only hate him less but respect him as a prosecutor and grudgingly admire his work ethic.

Even though on the surface we have nothing in common, in the end, our zest for our legal careers is the tie that binds us. Klavier knows about my enthusiastic scientific zeal for getting to the bottom of things – and he not only accepts but even seems to like that about me!

She may have even begun to like him as a person; the genuinely, goodhearted one, underneath all the womanizing and the glimmerousness.

At times, it seems like he could really know me. Like he could understand anything I told him. And the more we spoke, I knew why. The same things concern us. The same things excited us. We’re both about the law. About seeking the truth.

Beyond that, she . . . Beyond that, she refused to think.

Every time she remembered those tender moments in his arms, her heart began to pound. Whenever she wasn’t busying herself with paperwork, she couldn’t cease recollecting those gentle lips against the smoothness of her cheek the day before yesterday. She could still feel the long, strong fingers that had slid with such aching tenderness over her face and twined in her hair.

At the beginning of the year, when she’d joined the LAPD before she’d found out the truth about Klavier’s part in Phoenix’s downfall, she’d fallen under his spell.

Now, half a year later, she was wary, wiser, and no longer blind to his masculine wiles. The science enthusiast knew that Herr Adonis could easily mask treachery beneath a veneer of charm and that he was a shameless libertine.

After the other night, however, her heart rebelled against wanting to fully believe it. That night, in his arms, she’d felt as if she was special to him – as if he not only wanted her close but needed her there.

Very vain, Ema, she warned herself severely. And very foolish.

While she had nowhere near the amount of experience with the opposite sex Klavier did, she was hardly naïve about the ways of the world and men like him. A skilled Casanova like the fop would be an accomplished flirt who probably made every female feel she was special. No doubt womanizers like him kissed a woman with demanding hunger and passion one moment until she surrendered herself to him entirely, and then, when his rampant craving was over, forgot she was alive.

As the policewoman had repeatedly heard from her sister and her girlfriends, a lady-killer rock star, such as Klavier, easily feigned genuine interest in his conquests, then dropped them without compunction the second that interest waned.

Exactly in the same manner, now that he was sober and possibly aware of his torrid actions, the fop was likely to do with her.

While she’d suspected his acclaimed desire for her wasn’t real – why would a man who had women resembling supermodels dropping at his feet even give a second glance to a science nerd who was passably cute but hardly carnal inspiring in appearance? – it was not a comforting thought.

Ema was rendered even more confused than ever. Did she want him to remember, or didn’t she? Who should bring it up? How would she feel if he did remember? How would she act if he didn’t?!

I’m fighting myself. I know I am. I’m like that. Either I forget right away or I never forget. One minute I want to remember. I want him to remember. The next minute I want to live in the land of forgetting. One minute I want to feel. The next minute I never want to feel ever again, because it’s terrifying where those feelings could lead….

“Ahem. Working hard, or hardly working, Detective Skye?” A nasal twang suddenly sounded from right in front of her bureau, making her jolt out of her reverie. “Have we come at an inopportune time?”

The startled detective’s head jerked up, her surprised gaze landing on that wimpy talking hairpiece, otherwise known as Winston Payne. He was standing next to a slightly younger, black-suited version of himself, obviously a relative of his.

In contrast to the Rookie Killer’s foggy coke bottle glasses, the other man wore dark sunglasses, despite it being broad daylight. He was also sporting a ridiculous, 80’s inspired, greasy frontal black fringe, making him resemble a retro reject from Flock of Seagulls. On his unctuous mug was a can’t-miss oily smile, which immediately gave her the heebie-jeebies.

She affected her most neutral cadence and impassive expression.

“Good afternoon, Prosecutor Payne.” Her tone was courteousness personified as she graciously inclined her head in acknowledgment toward the attorney’s companion. “I’m not working on anything that can’t wait. How can I help you?”

“That’s Chief Prosecutor Payne, for your kind information,” the spectacled lawyer sniffed, straightening his slouched shoulders and flicking back the scant remains of his balding hair in customary pompous ass fashion. “I prefer to be addressed as a man with the newfound dignity of my office.”

Her composure slipped somewhat.

Chief Prosecutor?! This incompetent shit weasel, with a voice like nails on a blackboard, who for at least the last seven years has been as useless as a chocolate teapot in the courtroom, has somehow scored the coveted newly vacated position?!

Blinking rapidly, she was momentarily distracted by the flashing light on her cell, which was sitting on top of her desk, indicating that she had a new notification.

Murmuring politely about the urgency of the text to her unwanted visitors, she grabbed the phone and stared down at the screen, which read a message from Chief Gumshoe.

Sorry to have left you alone with the wolves pal, but I had to take the gang down to the detention center. Prosecutor Payne called to say he was going to visit the precinct. Also, he’s bringing his supposedly big-shot New York prosecutor brother with him for the introduction. Cryden is his name, I think? Don’t let that pipsqueak bully you though! He’s only ACTING Chief Prosecutor until maximum year-end when Mr. Edgeworth will rightfully take over the position permanently.

Cryden Payne?! So the other man with him must be said brother, just as I suspected. Ugh! What did I ever do to deserve this DUAL PAYNE IN THE ASS?!

Ema smirked to herself as she absorbed this newfound knowledge. Now that made sense! Acting Chief Prosecutor. As an interim. As in Mr. Too Big For His Britches already didn’t want to be known that he was only temporarily filling in the role. Nevertheless, she decided to humor him.

“My apologies, Chief Prosecutor Payne,” she offered, with phony saccharinity. “How may I be of service?”

“I realize the LAPD is at the bottom rung of our legal hierarchy, so you may not have been privy to the newest changes in rankings. Ergo, as you may or may not know, the officials of the courts are trying to clean house and clean up the mess left behind in the aftermath of Howard Cheatum’s dishonorable fall from grace.”

Winston’s tone was predictably snooty.

“I decided to take the liberty of personally coming by and ensuring you lot were kept in the loop. I’d also like to introduce you to my brother, Gaspen Payne, who is our newest prosecutor. He’s recently transferred here from Manhattan.”

Huh. So it’s Gaspen, not Cryden. I’m not that’s much better though … still pretty Auchi!

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Prosecutor Payne.” Ema nodded civilly at the darker-haired man while gritting her teeth at the patronizing dialogue she was being forced to endure by his even more painful windbag of a brother. “Welcome to Los Angeles.”

“I assure you, the pleasure is all mine.” Gaspen Payne flashed what could only be described as a leer in her direction, tangible even through his opaque shades. “I can already determine that I find the officers of this precinct much more … favorable to those I had to endure back in The City.”

The implication of his raspy words was not missed by the thoroughly unimpressed forensic lover. Enjoying flattery about her physical appearance when it’d come from Klavier was one thing. But having it being indirectly, yet so blatantly made, by a man she had just met, who was also clearly old enough to be her father – and bore a mug that belonged on the radio! – made her feel quite disturbed indeed.

She reflexively clutched her lab coat tightly closed over her chest and turned her attention to the equally uncouth, but less lascivious, Payne brother.

“I appreciate you taking the time to stop by but I’m quite busy,” the brunette said crisply, making a show out of shuffling the papers on her desk. “So, unless there was something else you needed…”

“As a matter of fact, there is.” The Chief Prosecutor folded his arms over his bony chest as he peered down his nose at her. “Like I just said, we are trying to clean the house, and that starts with closing off and archiving all settled case records. Has the State vs. Tobaye file been dealt with yet?”

Ema bit her lip. She had taken the folder over to Klavier’s office two nights ago, but in the end, if memory served her correctly, that was exactly where the folder containing all the related paperwork remained! Neither of them had remembered to scoop it up before she’d had to escort the prosecutor’s staggering, intoxicated behind to his car, and thus, it’d been completely disregarded.

However, she felt no need to air her boss’s dirty laundry to his obnoxious new supervisor and suddenly felt inexplicably protective of him.

“Prosecutor Gavin is in charge of taking care of that file, and I did bring it to him as requested,” she responded carefully, mindful of how much she divulged. “As I’m sure you’re aware, he is ever diligent about remaining on top of his workload, so I’ve no reason to think it’ll remain outstanding.”

“And yet it’s still unsettled, two days later!” Winston snapped. “I find it quite inappropriate that amidst all this chaos we are trying to deal with, Gavin has been shirking his duties and lollygagging on the post-trial, follow-up duties.”

“Things are much faster paced in New York,” Gaspen inserted with snobbish disapproval. “There is zero tolerance for dawdling with your legal obligations, regardless of how famous an artist the attorney happens to be! Why, our top Manhattan prosecutor, Felix Cited, was also a Tony-winning Broadway actor, yet he always managed to stay on top of his cases in between shows!”

“That’s the way it should be,” Winston nodded, pursing his thin lips, which made him resemble Kermit the Frog. “Law first, celebrity second.”

Ema gritted her teeth as a spark of loyalty lit within her upon hearing both these irksome blowhards attempting to badmouth Klavier. It was one thing for her to grumble about her boss, but she always did so to his face, not behind his back, like these two catty bitches!

“Prosecutor Gavin has not returned since the conclusion of the Tobaye trial.” She mentally counted to ten to keep from exploding in a fit of temper. “I imagine it’d be quite challenging for him to be doing his work when he hasn’t even been in the office, wouldn’t you?”

“Was the unfavorable outcome of one of his own peons being the true culprit … über strenuous for Herr Gavin to stomach? Is that why he’s still not come back to resume his legal duties?” Winston sneered, making Ema itch to slap his smug phizog so hard her hand would hurt, and then slap him again for making it hurt!

“We are all entitled to sick days, which to my knowledge, my superior has never been in the habit of abusing, in all his seven years as an attorney.”

Her voice was pure ice.

“As you said, we are trying to tidy up matters at this toilsome time. I would think that would include a sense of teamwork and, in light of the difficult circumstances surrounding Prosecutor Gavin regarding the last case, perhaps a side of compassion, Chief Prosecutor Payne.”

Winston’s eyes narrowed. He had not been anticipating any sort of rebuke from someone he saw as so far beneath him.

“We all have problems. What we don’t have is time to sit around languishing in wait for poor little Blondie to feel better,” he told Ema haughtily. “As the saying goes, if the mountain will not come to Muhammad, then Muhammad must go to the mountain. Therefore I kindly ask – scratch that – I order you, Detective Skye, to take that file over to Prosecutor Gavin’s residence and have him deal with it, immediately.”

Ema’s belly somersaulted. Despite the passionate defense of her immediate superior, she had little desire to go see him again so soon, not with her emotions still being in such an upheaval! In fact, Klavier not being in the office the last couple of days had been a blessing in disguise. She wasn’t sure when she would ever be ready to face him again after the other night, but until then, she had no yearning whatsoever to expedite things!

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that request.” She jutted her chin. “I have no idea exactly what instances prompted Mr. Gavin to call in the last few days, but it’s unreasonable to expect a man to work from his sickbed! Especially on a file that has been resolved, and isn’t going anywhere!”

“You will respect my authoritah!” Winston screeched in a spot-on, however unintended, Eric Cartman impression. His nostrils were now flaring so hard she could see his nose hairs swaying. “The scuttlebutt is that you haven’t exactly been rejoicing about being the assistant of Prosecutor Gavin, Detective Skye. I surmise it’s the reason for this most impudent insubordination to a direct order from the Chief Prosecutor! Rumor has it that only last month, you decided to physically demonstrate just how violently opposed you were to the German being your boss. Isn’t that right?”

Ema stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest and eyed him stonily, refusing to further fuel what was a clear reference to her crazed attack on Klavier when she’d found out about his role in Phoenix’s disbarring.

“Sometimes personalities clash, which is understandable, and we all just can’t get along, as much as we try.”

Winston braced his spindly arms on her desk and leaned forward so close, she could smell his pungent garlic and ginger breath on her face.

“As Chief Prosecutor, I do aim to make sure things run swimmingly for everybody. Also, I have
no problem reassigning you to a different prosecutor, one with whom you might find more favorable working conditions, Detective Skye.”

A supercilious smile crept over his rat-like mien.

“My brother Gaspen, The Rookie Humiliator, for example, doesn’t have an officer placed as his underling just yet. I was going to offer him Mike Meekins, but now I’m contemplating if perhaps it would be in everyone’s better interests if you were to work for him instead. Mayhap I’ll let Prosecutor Gavin have the newly reinstated, bumbling officer assigned as his new subordinate. What do you think?”

“I know I, for one, have zero objections to having Detective Skye working under me, brother.” Gaspen treated the shuddering Snackoo muncher to a lascivious grin. “I think perhaps this proposal would be a most agreeable arrangement indeed…”

Ema recognized the barely veiled threat and wished to nip it in the bud rather than call Winston’s bluff. As much as she’d complained about hating to work for Klavier, the mere notion of working under, or anywhere near, the libidinous younger Payne sibling made her flesh crawl.

“Fine!” The detective said quickly. “I’ll head over to the Prosecutor’s Office building, retrieve the file, and hand-deliver it to Mr. Gavin. And I’ll go do that right now.”

She ignored the disappointed look on Gaspen’s mien at her swift rejection and hurriedly grabbed her bag from her drawer just as Winston’s cell phone rang.

“Yes, dear … to what do I owe the pleasure…What do you mean I need to park my car in the driveway tonight because you’re remodeling my home office and the contractors just pulled in?! You’re going to turn my study into a what?!”

“Into a playroom for Gaspen’s little boy!” Diane Payne informed her husband loftily. “The precious darling adores trains, so I thought we would install a life-size track and choo-choo train that he could ride on whenever sweet little Cofftin comes to visit!”

“Gah!” A mysterious breeze from out of nowhere made the aghast Winston’s hair fly back as he yelped in protest. “Number one, dear, his name is Aiden…”

“Cofftin is his special pet name!”

“You know Gaspen hates it when you refer to his son by the unfortunate nickname he was dubbed due to his allergic hacking fit from that kitten we unknowingly gave him last Christmas!”

Standing beside his sibling, Gaspen winced in pain accordingly.

“And number two, little Aiden is still living out East with his mother! My brother is having a very difficult time arranging the divorce custody visitation arrangements with her from across the country! Right now as we speak, we will be lucky if our nephew visits us more than a few times a year!”

“But whenever he does, he’ll have a wonderful little playroom at his favorite aunt and uncle’s house!” Diane replied gaily. “There’s really no excuse not to do this, Winnie! On top of the hot tub I’m also installing in the backyard, we can certainly afford these extra luxuries with your new salary as Chief Prosecutor!”

Both brothers were too distracted to even notice that Ema had discreetly slunk out of the office at this point, clapping a hand over her mouth to keep from snorting with mirth.

“A hot tub?!” Winston spluttered. “Objection! You know the chlorine affects my sinuses! That’s why I never use our pool! And I forbid you to makeover my study, woman! I am the man of the house and my word is final!”

“I have to go now!” She chirped merrily, ignoring her husband’s orders, as was a tradition. “The man just arrived to install the new wet bar! I’ll see you later!”

“You cannot do this, Diane!” Winston howled. “That office is my sanctuary! Where else am I supposed to go for my moments of solitude and deep, reflective thinking?”

“Oh quit your grousing! You’re acting like an even bigger, whinier baby than five-year-old Cofftin!” The longtime Mrs. Payne countered peevishly. “Just use the damn can like everyone else!”

Ema Skye and Klavier Gavin
Ritz-Carlton Metropolis Condominium,
Gavin Penthouse
July 12, 2026, 3:45 PM

Time seemed to drag as she neared the swanky condominium where the rock god resided. By the time she came to his door, Ema was so unstrung she nearly jumped a mile when he answered her knock at the door by unexpectedly flinging it open, his eyes the size of saucers at the sight of her.

“Fräulein Detective!” He gasped, quickly tightening the sash of his silky, knee-length wrap, with a purple G emblazoned on the right side, around his waist. He made no move to invite her in, but instead remained at the door, seeming stupefied by her presence. “What are you doing here?”

Leaning in the doorway, the prosecutor stood before her with his arms folded, appearing more rigid than relaxed. The slightly open clasp of his robe showed off his bare, tanned chest, and the light, clingy satin material hugged his wide, strong shoulders. The long sleeves of the robe were rolled up at the elbow, displaying darkly tanned, very muscular forearms whose strength she had already experienced when he’d pulled her against those well-developed pecs she was privy to get a glimpse of.

Her cheeks warmed slightly.

Truthfully, even though he appeared in a guarded stance, Klavier nevertheless seemed more approachable than usual with his disheveled appearance; his still-damp hair, worn long and loose around his shoulders, his bare feet adorned with corresponding silver house slippers to match the bathrobe he still wore, even though it was afternoon.

“Er, hey, Gavin,” she began apologetically, finally releasing the bated breath in her lungs now that she’d seen him at last. “Sorry to barge in on you like this.”

“Ah, it’s fine.” He shuffled uncomfortably. “I’m sorry to not even be dressed, I just wasn’t expecting company.”

“I apologize for dropping by out of the blue like this. It’s just that Acting Chief Prosecutor … Winston Payne, made me come here,” she said after a long, embarrassing moment during which she couldn’t remember the irritating runt’s name. “He asked me to bring you this.”

Her hand shook as she held out the manila folder for the Tobaye case.

“I see.” Rather than accept the file, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his robe and looked down. “Well, that was very nice of you. I’m sorry to have put you out.”

“It’s no problem.” She smiled uncertainly. “I brought my car here, of course – yours is safely still at work in the parking lot, so it’s Taxi Town for you when you finally decide to come back to the office! It can be a real pain trying to nab one during morning rush hour, in which case, you’ll have to slum it on the bus, as the rest of us mere mortals do!”

There was a pregnant pause following her weak attempt to resume the light banter they normally exchanged. Feeling increasingly awkward, she shuffled her feet and returned his unreadable gaze with her own perplexed one.

Klavier stared at the detective as though still in paralyzed surprise as his gaze roved over her cheek and jaw, then shifted to her lips, lingering there. Abruptly he looked away.

“Detective Skye,” he began, and for the first time, she noticed the tension around his mouth. He hesitated as if searching for the right words. “Did I do anything last night that I should apologize for?”

If he has to ask, it means he doesn’t recollect a damn thing! Ema thought disgustedly as her heart sank. When it comes to being memorable, I seem to be a minus one hundred and ten!

It was just as well nothing had transpired between them. He didn’t recall any of it. Now she finally had her answer – as pitiable as it seemed, she had been hoping he would’ve recalled at least something!

“Nothing that I remember.” She tried to keep her disappointment from showing.

The ghost of a smile hovered at his lips. “Usually, the person who can’t remember is the one who overindulged, not the other way round.”

“I see. Well, no, you didn’t.”

“Good. In that case, I’ll see you at the office then.” With a terse nod, he turned to go back inside.

“Wait!” Ema burst out before she could stop herself. “Do you honestly not remember anything at all?”

For one breathless, heart-pounding moment, neither of them spoke, but then he cocked a half-grin, the smarmy one which she absolutely loathed.

“I merely wanted to know if, in your opinion, I did anything I ought to apologize for, Fräulein Detective,” he drawled in a borderline insolent tone which gave zero evidence that the sweet man beneath the obnoxious veneer even existed. “Were you lying to me about that?”

His audacity had her seeing red as she puffed out her cheeks.

“You are the most exasperating man alive!” She exclaimed with frustration. “Of course, I’m not lying! What do you take me for? You were in a mindless inebriated stupor, so naturally, nobody took advantage of anybody! Although I imagine if such a thing had happened, your fickle memory should have at least remembered that!”

He drew back, startled by her outburst.

Realization of what she’d just said caused her words to become caught in her throat. The lady cop glanced up and saw he was gawking at her in utter bewilderment. She felt the heat rising to her cheeks and prayed it wasn’t noticeable, then coughed and pushed her hair back behind her ear, even though it was already there.

“Anyway, um, because I wanted a coffee on the way over here, I stopped at this cute new bakery called Cake a Diem.” Her breath came out in an embarrassed, choking laugh as she struggled to regain her aplomb. “They specialize in German pastries, so I thought I’d get you some Streuselkuchen.”

His expression didn’t change or have any flicker of appreciation or recognition, and Ema uneasily wondered if she’d pronounced the word wrong.

“Um, you know – streusel cake?”

She waved the bag in the air and forgot her annoyance as at that moment, the long lineup at the pastry shop, coupled with LA traffic en route during peak rush hour, plus the large cup of java, suddenly surfaced, rearing its ugly head with a vengeance!

“So… in exchange for my kind good deed, could I please use your bathroom?”

Klavier blanched slightly, with an expression which, had nature not been calling so loudly, could have only been construed as guilt! However, as Ema was in such frenzied need of the toilet, she figured she’d imagined that strange, discomfited expression on his visage.

“Er, that’s probably a bad idea,” he hedged, moving more squarely in the doorway, as though trying to obstruct her view into the suite. “To be honest, my place isn’t very clean right now…”

“Don’t be so prissy! I was just here the other night, so I know firsthand this place makes even museums look like a pigsty in comparison! I’d ask for the number of your cleaning lady if I could afford one!”

Uncaring about decorum anymore, the detective – who at this point felt her teeth were floating! – shoved the bag at his chest as she made a move to push past him into the condo, the unanticipated action allowing her to slip past him and into the foyer.

“I’m a flatfoot, remember? I’m sure your facilities are downright luxurious compared to some of the gas station toilets I’ve had to use!”

“Achtung Baby!” Klavier appeared officially panicked now as he tossed the pastry bag onto the small hallway table and made a move in Ema’s direction as if to detain her. “Detective Skye, hold it!”

“What’s with you, Gavin?” Something in his tone caught her attention. “You hiding a dead body in here or something?”

“Well…”

Flummoxed, the brunette turned back to quizzically regard him as she took another step into the room – then froze in her tracks.

Standing in the hallway, which led to the bedrooms, stood a tall, long-stemmed, voluptuous sexpot. She had the kind of body Ema would have killed for, with gleaming, reddish-gold curls that tumbled past her full bust, which was covered by nothing more than an oversized Gavinners t-shirt, and only came down to mid-thigh.

“Candi!” Klavier croaked.

The science enthusiast was so thunderstruck by the redhead’s impromptu appearance that she was barely cognizant of the manila folder in her hands abruptly sliding from her shaky fingertips, sending the papers flying to the plushy carpeted floor.

Candi. The very chick who’d asked him to sign her breasts – twice. Well, it seems like she got something more memorable sprayed across her chest than just signature ink!

Ema knew she should bend down to pick up the scattered State vs. Tobaye files, but she felt frozen in place, even though her mind had begun to spiral amidst a cyclone of tumultuous emotions.

Candi the waitress. The one the fickle Arschloch remembered from all those years ago at the Russian bar– yet initially forgot all about me! It’s glaringly evident why. This Lothario has a type. It’s not her fault that she’s so irresistible. But all the damage she’s caused isn’t fixable.

“Candi!” Klavier repeated, a bit more frantically. “What are you doing out here?”

Ema’s feeling of gaucheness was abating, replaced by slowly mounting indignation.

Every twenty seconds you repeat her name. But when it comes to me, you don’t care if I’m alive or dead. Humph! Objection! I don’t want to be the exception to get a bit of your attention. Well, I get it, fop. Next, to her cheap silicon…I look minimal. That’s why in front of your eyes I’m invisible – and never memorable.

“Sorry to bother you, Klavi-kins!” Candi simpered, running scarlet fingernails through her tousled mane. “But I wasn’t sure how long you were going to be, and I’ve got to get ready for work soon. I needed to take a shower … though you never did tell me where you keep the guest towels?”

“Klavi-kins?” Ema blinked, too numb with shock to even make a snarky jibe about the sickening nickname as she swiveled her head back and forth between the redhead and pink-cheeked lawyer in disbelief.

The vixen smiled brightly at the dumbfounded detective and spoke before the mortified prosecutor could respond.

“Oh, hiiiiii!” She waggled her fingers at the detective. “I remember you! I seem to keep bumping into you almost as much as Klavi-kins! You’re Ella, right?”

“It’s Ema, actually,” the policewoman replied faintly, feeling exactly the way the former rock star currently looked – like someone who wished they were somewhere, anywhere, else! “Detective Ema Skye, LAPD.”

“Ema! Right! Duh!” Candy tittered, giving herself an exaggerated smack to the forehead. “Why the heck did I think, Ella?”

Klavier was ogling his boudoir partner with an expression that could only be described as horrifyingly pleading, as though mentally willing her not to speak another word.

“Oh right!” As though a light bulb had appeared over her head, the waitress beamed sunnily at her lover. “Ella – that’s what you cried out in bed last night, Klavi-kins!”

The German-made an unintelligible sound, which could only be described as a cat trying to cough up a hairball.

“Don’t you remember?” A contemplative frown flickered across the server’s visage. “You screamed it out, but then tried to muffle the sound by burying your face in my –”

“Nein!” Klavier found his voice at last, although it sounded partially strangled from his throat. “Nein!”

“Noooo….” Candi tipped her head to the side and eyed him strangely. “It wasn’t nine times! I mean it was quite a few – but not nine! Otherwise, I wouldn’t still be walking, because my knees would be like cooked ramen noodles! Tee hee!”

She winked suggestively at him.

“Be that as it may – it was still quite the workout you gave me, stud muffin! I think that’s why we both slept in so late! Regardless of my state of exhaustion though, I’m positive I heard you, at least twice, cry out El –”

“I never said, Ella!” Klavier’s eyes were giving the impression they were about to bulge out of his skull. “I said, Bella! It means beautiful in Italian!”

“Oh! I didn’t know that!” The waitress let out a high-pitched screeching titter, which sounded as ear-grating as a squealing pig in a vacuum cleaner. “Gracias, Klavi-kins! That’s so sweet! But – wait, aren’t you like, German or something?”

Klavier barely resisted the urge to facepalm.

“Ja, but I am many things!” None of which includes being a man with discerning tastes in Frauen…

Hot color raced to Ema’s countenance as it dimly dawned upon her, within the sentient recesses of her spinning mind, that she’d invaded upon her employer having an intimate tryst, which was appalling enough!

But what was even more so was realizing that while she’d known aiding and abedding was par for the course with her complete man-whore, rock star boss, there was still something that’d momentarily eluded her; something she’d ingenuously forgotten, despite knowing about his reputation for being a notorious Lothario.

Never, not in her worst imaginings, had she ever envisioned, after baring his soul to her as he had, that Klavier would seek out a random dalliance… immediately following what Ema had naïvely deemed to be a genuine declaration of affection for her.

And never before had she felt so gullible, or foolish, in her entire life.

But the self-loathing could come later. Right now, she had to get out of there!

“Apparently, you’re also Klavi-kins,” she spat rancorously, spinning on her heel to stalk past him while averting her gaze from his flustered one. “Please pardon my interruption, Prosecutor Gavin. The purpose of my visit has been fulfilled. All case file contents are now accounted for, and I hope the two of you enjoy the pastries. Good day to you both.”

Klavier finally snapped out of his stupor as he realized Ema was about to leave, feeling even guiltier by the second, although unsure as to why! All he knew was that he’d seen a flicker of undeniable hurt in those stormy green eyes right before her fair cheeks had flushed with discontent, and more than anything, he desperately wanted to make things right again.

“Detective Skye, wait!” He cried, grabbing her by the hand, but she shrugged it off and made a beeline for the door.

A slight cough came from the other end of the room, reminding him of his cumbersome house guest. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled feebly at the redhead.

“Candi, the towels are in the linen closet outside the guest bedroom. I’ll be right back.”

Humiliated past bearing, Ema whirled on her heel and stalked out of the room, only one thought in her mind: escape.

There had to be some way to show Klavier Gavin that this stumbled-upon discovery of his true nature didn’t matter in the least. That she didn’t care. Bonus points if she could show him that she too, was
genuinely desirable; that other men actually did want her!

And she was never, never going to let herself trust him again.

She’d foolishly been lulled into thinking they were friends. She had even dared hope that for once, a man had noticed her. Looked at her, instead of through her. Had believed that he’d actually, possibly
liked her.

Somehow, she had let his beguiling charm cast its spell on her and let down her defenses, forgetting what he’d done to Phoenix, and bought into his earnest, sweet, sad little boy act. Even worse, she’d nonsensically fallen for his sincere captivated claims, as she was too much of an ingénue to stick to her initial beliefs that it’d all purely been beer-goggled concupiscence!

The fact that he couldn’t recall any of his alleged heartfelt ardency or desire for her afterward was conclusive proof that Klavier had been so sozzled, he undoubtedly would have seen a bottle of luminol as lust-worthy had there been a skirt on it, and that even while intoxicated, his debaucher Arsch had still managed to play her like his blasted guitar!

If he knew how affected she was by all this, he would surely mock her senselessly – but not before laughing himself silly.

“Fräulein Detective, you took my drunken flirtations seriously?! Ha-ha! What a joke!”

Ema was already reaching for the doorknob and had flung it open, Klavier hot on her heels. Quickly reaching for her arm with one hand, he pulled the door shut behind him with the other as he stepped out into the hallway.

She stiffened at his touch and closed her eyes, mortified to the very core.

“Fräulein Detective, please don’t go.” His timbre was imploring as he turned her rigid form around to face him. “Not like this.”

Ema couldn’t dare look at him right then, so instead focused on staring at the ludicrous blingy G chain he was still sporting, even while at home. She steeled her jaw defiantly.

“It’s rush hour now, and traffic will be gridlocked. I’ve got to get going.” Her tone was hollow. “I need to get back to the station.”

“Not when you’re like this!” He insisted. “I feel as if you’re angry with me, and I need to apologize…”

“There’s no need for that.” She shook her head and kept her eyes affixed to the pendant. “I ought to be the one apologizing. I should have called first. I didn’t know you had company.”

Although I really should have foreseen that outcome! Siamese twins probably sleep alone more than you do, you Männliche Hure!

The former singer tried to put a hand under her chin to lift her head so he could look into her eyes, but when his fingers brushed her skin, she jerked back violently, as though she’d been scorched. The feel of his touch on her flesh was the last thing she wanted in the world.

“Keep your damn hands off me, you filthy Schlampe!” The revulsion in her inflection was palpable as she shot daggers at him. “I can only imagine where they’ve been!”

Klavier saw the flaming twin emeralds now glaring into his orbs, noting the rebellious set of her chin and angry pride blazing in her eyes, warning him not to underestimate her. Even though he was her superior, she’d always had zero qualms about disconcerting him! Ema hadn’t ever squelched her daring impertinence when she deliberately expressed her displeasure with his antics – verbally or physically! He had no desire to have a historical repeat of the latter.

Reluctantly, he dropped his hand but continued staring at her with a pleading expression.

“Please at least let me explain, Detective Skye.”

The fire drained out of her, and she suddenly wanted to vanish into the hall carpeting for such a petty, jealous reaction. What the hell was wrong with her?! She remembered the German slur she had just called him, and her mortification doubled. How could she have let him provoke her into calling him names?!

“You don’t owe me any apology or explanation for what you do in your private life, Prosecutor Gavin.” Her voice was formal and void of emotion as she met his gaze, careful to keep her countenance expressionless. “I get it. You’re a rock star. This is who you are.”

Wishing to dispel all these deleterious charges against him, even marginally, the lawyer gazed at the tempestuous, teal-eyed beauty before him. Her cheeks were still flushed, her russet tresses tumbling riotously over her shoulders and her white lab coat gave her an appeal that was a conflicting mix of bewildered yet ireful; like a virtuous, yet fiery angel.

No other woman had ever defied him with such satisfaction, although it was never behind his back. It was always to his face. Ema’s indomitable spirit was one of the things he most admired her for, but right now, it was obvious the obduracy that accompanied it was unyielding, and the fieriness he’d always adored was vanquished, with cooling, barely glowing embers in its stead. It was unmistakable by the coldly dismissive, dispassionate look in her orbs; coupled with a blend of contempt and resolute resignation that he’d never witnessed there before.

His chest constricted painfully.

She was already beyond yelling. Which meant she was past caring.

With a heavy heart, Klavier bowed his head in submission and nodded. There was no point in defending his actions or pleading his case to her. Her mind was made up about the kind of man he was, and he knew that the door to friendship, which had previously been opened by the tiniest crack, was now as bolted and sealed as his fate.

The fat lady had sung. Before it’d even had a chance to truly begin, it was over. It was really and truly over.

The realization hurt even more than the time she’d kicked him in his Hoden area.

“I won’t interfere with the rest of your workday then.” It was his turn to look away. “I’ll see you at the office tomorrow.”

“Fine.” She sensed he’d backed off now, and knew she should savor having gotten the upper hand, but couldn’t resist making a breezy query. “For the record, if I had thought there was a need, and allowed you to explain yourself, for whatever reason, exactly what, pray tell, would you have said?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he responded flatly. “You have asked me to no longer detain you from returning to work, so I shall concede to your demand. Despite our unexpected malapropos circumstances, in which I’ve been caught playing hooky with my pants down, we are both nevertheless, professionals. In the end, although you’re my subordinate, we are still colleagues, ja? I need to respect that, along with your boundaries, and your wishes.”

“How nice of you to finally allow me that much, at long last, after only a near half year!” She retorted waspishly, flipping her long hair back over her shoulder as she turned to leave. “Whatever did I say that finally earned me this hard-earned allowance, Boss Man?”

“It’s just realizing who you are, Detective Skye,” he said tiredly, the defeat evident in his voice. “I know better than to try to speak to willfully deafened ears. You are the fearsome champion of oozing preemptive, leave-me-alone death rays. You’re a very strong-willed woman. Heaven help the man who doesn’t heed the warning signs and oblige you when you wish to be left alone.”

For some reason, his compliance stung. She wasn’t sure how she felt about being seen as so aloof and touch-me-not … was this truly the way he saw her? The way all men had forever seen her? Was this why they could continue to regard her in the manner Klavier was now doing?

His dry eyes stare at me, while internally, I fall apart. If only he knew. I wish I were as tough as I want you to think I am, fop.

“Alright then.” Ema nodded stiffly. “See you tomorrow, Prosecutor Gavin.”

As she heard the door close behind her, all of a sudden, she had the insane urge to want to add something else.

“I’m sorry,” or perhaps “Fop you!” I want to say, “I let you in and you abused that position of trust!” But no, no, no. Maybe, I just want to say, “I forgive you. You’re not sorry but I still forgive you.” Then I want to say, “The other night when you wanted to kiss me and forget, my biggest regret is I didn’t let you. I wish I could turn back time, and see if it would have made a difference, and you would have remembered if I’d just gone along with it. If I’d said, “Yes. Please kiss me, Klavier. Please. Please… so we can both forget everything…”

Klavier Gavin and Candi Kane
Ritz-Carlton Metropolis Condominium
Gavin Penthouse
July 12, 2026, 4:00 PM

As he turned to walk back into his suite, Klavier was surprised to see that rather than showering, Candi was standing there in the living room, although the sought-for towel had been located and was in her hands.

“I’m sorry if I caused any trouble,” she said anxiously. “It’s just … I couldn’t lie another minute with all those crumbs in my hair from those sugary thingies you brought to bed! What are they called again? Snack-poos?”

Snackpoos?! Ngh! Mein Gott, someone just put me out of my misery already, right here, right now!

He mentally groaned and vowed to never go within 100 feet of the blasted crunchy chocolates again. Not if he ever wished to have a moment of his life exist without having a certain grumpy detective constantly on his mind!

“You didn’t cause any trouble, Candi,” he answered wearily. “And they’re called Snackoos. I’m sorry they left such a burdensome trail behind.”

“It’s no problem! They’re messy but tasty – and provided the sugar fuel we needed to keep going all night – even if they do look like little sticks of poo!”

She flashed a winsome smile as she turned to head to the shower.

“By the way, Klavi-kins, I love your hair when it’s all wet and hanging loose like that! Much sexier than that braid of yours, which kinda looks like a drill!”

“Danke, schöne Frau.” He ran a self-conscious hand through his uncombed locks and smiled his thanks at the compliment. “Granting, it’d look better if I were to at least brush it out somewhat, ja?”

“No, leave it as it is!” Candi let out a guffaw, this time sounding like a constipated braying donkey mating with a power drill. “You’re rockin’ the bedhead! It looks like a glamorous mop!”

With that, she sashayed down the hall to the bathroom, cheerfully oblivious to the poleaxed look on his visage at her unintentionally barbed praise.

Even after Candi was out of sight, Klavier continued to stare dully after this airheaded bimbo whom he’d decided to make his bed warmer last night, and wondered how normal it was to have been sexually fulfilled, yet remain feeling so empty inside.

Then he pondered his very sanity, for he felt the urge to laugh and cry at the same time, even though, for the third time in just as many months, his heart was inherently destroyed.

I am in misery. There ain’t nobody here to comfort me. It’s like my sadness is so deep and overwhelming, I’m worried it will drown everyone else in my life if I let them too close to it.

Klavier sunk onto his sofa. Lately, it seemed as though sadness was going to be familiar to him from now on. So like an abusive habit he couldn’t shake, he found himself returning to it, even though he swore he never would.

This whole ordeal has made me feel so sad; it seems to be fated to be my sole constant companion. I can write a love song with the best of them, but ironically, when it comes to speaking of my own feelings, I balk every time. I have always felt so guilt-ridden whenever I have had cause for lament, for when I’m suffering any kind of hurt. How can I ever profess that this larger-than-life rockstar persona is a façade; that it doesn’t make me unbreakable? Perhaps I always feel bad about ever feeling morose because I know I’ve led a mostly charmed life; one of privilege. So I didn’t think I deserved to ever feel sad or admit it out loud to anyone. I don’t think this tender heart of mine could stand to see the judgement I’d face if I ever confessed to such; the disgusted looks on the faces of those who have suffered so much more…

He laughed humorlessly. Loving Ema Skye now meant feeling bittersweet happiness and emptiness at the same time. It was downright pathetic.

Congratulations, Gavin, he thought bitterly. You got to a point where you wanted Ema Skye so badly that you were afraid in a weak moment, you’d profess what was truly in your heart. And so you sought out any reason in the world to convince yourself she didn’t give a damn about you. No matter how many women you’ve bedded, in the end, asleep, awake, drunk, or sober, you only wanted her.

He continued torturing himself with the memory of the pained look in Ema’s eyes. The one she hadn’t been quick enough to hide when he’d opted for the coward’s path, and told her he didn’t recall anything from the other night.

You’ve never stopped wanting her! You love her, you care for her, and you hate yourself for that weakness! Nevertheless, you still tried to lose yourself in the arms of that mental midget of a hoochie mama who is named after your least favorite Christmas confection! The same one who is presently in your shower, washing out the crumbs of Ema’s favorite snack – which you gave her – from her hair!

She’d wanted him to remember. But he’d realized that too late.

You thought it’d be easier for her to abhor you. Well, enjoy the easy life now that you know exactly how she feels about you – because you gave her no other choice! Even though she didn’t slap you as you wanted, you still got your wish! The woman of your dreams showed up at your door, and for the second time, you let her think she’s unmemorable! That you forgot all the details of the drunken night you practically confessed that you love her! And then she witnessed glaringly irrefutable evidence contradicting your proclaimed devotion because you lay with another woman immediately afterward!

“I didn’t know!” Klavier slumped back on the sofa. “Right up until I saw that hopeful flame in her eyes extinguish, like a dying cinder in a fire, after I lied about not recalling anything, I had no idea she’d want me to remember what I’d professed to her … and perhaps even have meant those avowals!”

Well, now you don’t have to worry about knowing where you stand with her – she’s been so thoroughly humiliated that she’ll never forgive you for it! She was right. Like she said, not only are you a slut in German, but also English, and you deserved no less than to be called as such! Moreover, you’re a complete bastard! You don’t have to worry about weakening anymore. Ema will hate you even more now than when she found out you got her dear friend disbarred. She will never again trust a word you say and despise you until the day she dies!

“Would it have made any difference if I did tell her I remembered and meant every single word?” He rubbed his eyes. “Or would we still have been dead in the water the moment she saw Candi? Have we just been doomed from the start, no matter what? Is this my damnation for what happened with Herr Wright?”

Is there anything more heartrending than when two people are fated to be together… until the cruel hand of fate intercedes?

Klavier dropped his head into his hands.

On days like these, when you find yourself missing something you never even had, I wish I were still making music, he reflected grimly. For broken hearts make good literature … and even better songs. Especially when you are firsthand experiencing Saudade; a deep emotional state of melancholic longing for a person or thing that is absent.

“If all the cards hadn’t been stacked against us, if things had somehow been different for us, a part of me needs to think it could have worked out,” he whispered into the emptiness of the living room. “We could have loved each other.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” the emptiness replied mercilessly. “Why torture yourself this way?”

“Because despite knowing all of this, I can’t stop loving her. She wears strength and darkness equally well. That woman has always been half goddess, half hell.”

Ema Skye
Ritz-Carlton Residences Parking Lot
July 12, 2026, 4:04 PM

As she sat inside her car in the condo parking lot, unmoving and silent, save for her labored breathing, Ema realized she must be going slightly mad. How else to explain willingly asking for Klavier to let her be, and then having the strange urge to burst into tears because he’d proceeded to throw in the towel so easily, and done exactly that?!

I’m losing my ever-loving mind. Her hand jerked to the knob on her car stereo and picked a random music station, eager to drown out her thoughts. There’s no other explanation.

The feminist singer, Pink, was playing on the radio. Perfect. The no-nonsense, plain-speaking performer, with her edgy, indelible brand of lyrics, was just what Ema needed at the moment.

White knuckles
And sweaty palms from hanging on too tight
Clenched shut jaw
I’ve got another headache again tonight
Eyes on fire, eyes on fire…

Yeah, sing it, girl! She felt slightly cheered already as she cranked the volume up. No cheesy love songs for me! I need some straight-talking, tough-girl tunes to give me some inner strength right about now!

Tie a knot in the rope
Trying to hold, trying to hold
But there’s nothing to grasp so
I let go

That nothingness Pink spoke of … was referring to forlorn loss. Of heartache.

Matters of the heart were something Ema had no familiarity with at all. But Lana had and had taught her little sister some important lessons about it.

She remembered once when her sister and her beau had gotten into an ugly fight. The elder Skye had vehemently insisted that there was nothing left for her and Jake and had cried that she was sick of all the fighting. Then Lana had painstakingly explained to her then-adolescent sibling to always stay strong, even when crumbling inside. Always maintain your dignity, even when you felt internally shattered.

“Never lose face in front of any man, Ema,” the Legendary Duo detective had lectured. “I pray to God this is advice you’ll never need to know or take, but heed my words.”

Ema hadn’t thought she’d ever never truly come to understand her sister’s advice. But now, unfortunately, she did. And all too well.

I think I finally had enough
I think I maybe think too much
I think this might be it for us
Blow me one last kiss
You think I’m just too serious
I think you’re full of shit
My head is spinning so
Blow me one last kiss

Pink had the right idea. She’d been sad, but then she got mad. She’d had enough – and so had Ema.

“For some reason, this time it’s taking longer than the last few instances to graduate from sadness to anger at that accursed skirt-chaser! Your lies filled my lungs with smoke, Klavier Gavin! I need fresh air! I need you to go – to get you out of my damn head! Then I can say, ‘you’re full of shit, fop! Enough is enough!’ And I will get there!” She fiercely vowed out loud. “I will be stronger than my sadness.”

Lana’s words drifted back to her mind.

“The day he smashes your heart to smithereens –  don’t ever give him the satisfaction of letting him see you shed even one single tear in his presence. No, you walk away with your head held high – then wait until you’re back home first before you cry. Only then can you allow yourself to unleash that river of tears you will shed over that bastard, even if it means sobbing until 3 o’clock in the morning while curled in the fetal position on your bed and you swear the pillow you’re clinging to like a life raft is your sole salvation and comfort. Perfect your smile in front of the mirror for as long as it takes until you look like you’re auditioning for a toothpaste commercial, so when you see him again, he can’t differentiate your eyeliner from the redness of your eyes.”

Just when it can’t get worse
I’ve had a shit day
Have you had a shit day?
We’ve had a shit day

“You can and will find the strength to drag together the rags of your composure and feign a smile even though your heart is broken. Because you’re a woman. You will go ahead and smile because you can. Even though you don’t want to. In time,  you will go ahead and crack up at corny jokes because it makes you happy. Not because you have to.”

To smile, you needed to be happy. So no, she wouldn’t seek out anger to get her through this. She would instead strive for ataraxia. An inner calmness, and peace of mind; emotional tranquillity.

I think that life’s too short for this
I want back my ignorance and bliss
I think I’ve had enough of this
Blow me one last kiss

“And don’t you dare let him ever see the agony in your eyes; that you’re still not over it and every intake of breath stabs into your heart and hurts like a sonofabitch. You are like a pineapple – you straighten up that crown and keep moving. He doesn’t need to get the satisfaction of knowing any of that. After all, the blades are yours, not his.”

The daggers carried sharp points that pierced her heart, as though from the inside. Unambiguously, this pain was hers, and hers alone.

I hate this. I hate knowing what I wanted and knowing what was right and knowing they weren’t the same thing.

“Forget science! I must be an emotional archaeologist because I keep looking for the roots of things, particularly the roots of behavior and why I feel certain ways about certain things.”

Why did this hurt so much? Why did she feel more betrayed and sad rather than enraged at having been duped? How could she feel so broken up over a man she’d never actually even been with? One she’d sworn to despise? It didn’t make sense!

She could almost hear Lana’s voice murmuring in her ear.

“The mind can’t explicate it, and you can’t will it away. It’s that crazy little thing called love, Ema. Some things in life, like matters of the heart, bely scientific logic or explanation. Allowing your heart to feel also means surrendering control and becoming helpless to your own emotions. A bit of lunacy is key.”

“Wasn’t it nice?” The forensic enthusiast spoke into the silence. “To feel wanted, even if it was only for a little while?”

“You mean to be lusted after only while he was drunk, and then promptly forgotten?” Returned the scrutinizing, critical voice. “Isn’t that what you found out today? That was all just your cherished moments and memories, not his? Which means it wasn’t real.”

“I can’t help it. It was probably nothing, but it felt like the world. Those stolen moments in his arms … I can’t forget how it made me feel. No matter how much I wish I could.” She squeezed her eyes shut and thought for a moment. “It was nice. Even if it wasn’t real.”

It was easier when I simply hated you – but then you had to go fop that up for me!

“I hate the fact that I don’t hate you, not even a little.”

She banged her fist against the steering wheel.

Damn you, Klavier Gavin! It was real for me. And that’s why this hurts so much!

“I hate myself for letting this happen to me. For letting myself get so vulnerable, and now it hurts how you inconceivably, unknowingly broke me. And now it’s going to take a superhuman effort to make myself believe I’m OK. It hurts how you didn’t care at all when all I wanted was to keep believing that you did.”

Her voice trembled.

“It hurts that I’m going to have to drive myself crazy convincing myself I’m over you, even though you’re my first and last thought. It hurts knowing you’re messing around with others, yet I don’t know when I’ll ever be able to even talk to anyone else without comparing him to you, because it’s you and I’m scared to death that it will always be you.”

A tear rolled down her cheek, quickly followed by another.

The truth is, there are fewer things in life more sorrowful than being but a fleeting moment to somebody who your foolish heart would have let in for infinity.