Page 32

As I neared the end of the piece, the familiar intoxicating fragrance permeated the room, drawing me back to the present. Opening my eyes, I glimpsed a movement on the periphery of my vision. I stopped playing and looked behind me. The young man stood against the wall, watching me intently.

He was dressed in black, as in my dream.

How did he get into the room?

His eyes widened and he stepped toward me. This time, I noticed he was barefoot. My forgotten heart lurched into life.

“Can you see me?” he asked, his voice soft.

My mouth dropped open.

What a bizarre question!

Of course I could see him!

But I was too stupefied to reply.

He straightened. He must have been at least six feet, and he was attractive, distractingly attractive: luminous forest-green eyes stared down a straight nose and his full lips were parted in shock.

Wow.

“Shit, you can see me.” I heard the disbelief in his voice while my mind was in free fall matching my pounding heart.

Who is this young man? Am I hallucinating again?

And then he was gone. Poof, just like that. Again.

What?

I gaped at the space he had occupied in stupefied shock.

Dylan appeared in the doorway. “You stopped,” he said and halted, raising his eyebrows in alarm. “For heaven’s sake, Emily, you’re so pale!”

I took a breath, trying to still my pounding heart.

Out of the ether, I swear I heard a faint gasp and a crude word.

What’s wrong with me?

What’s happening?

Blood thundered in my ears. The room started to spin, and I clutched Cecilia.

“Fuck, Emily!” Dylan grabbed my cello, laid her on the floorboards, and grasped my upper arms. Gently, he laid me on the floor beside my cello. “You look like you’re going to faint,” he said, his alarm clouding his blue eyes. He grabbed a few books from one of the packing cases and placed them under my feet, propping up my legs so they were higher than my head. The room swam while my fevered brain tried to make sense of the past twenty seconds.

What was that guy doing in this room?

He was in my dreams and now he’s in this room. How?

Dylan knelt beside me and checked my pulse, alternately gazing at his wristwatch and at me. “Breathe, Emily. Breathe. Slowly. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Your heart rate is going through the roof. Try to calm down.”

How can I stay calm?

I’m going crazy.

I tried to focus on his voice. On him. He started to inhale and exhale slowly.

“Breathe with me,” he ordered. And because I was reeling from the latest encounter with my hallucination and helpless to do anything else, I followed his rhythm.