“I’m not special, talented, or even particularly good at anything. Once it was like a terrible secret I had to conceal at all costs. Over the years, I did think of you, Andy. I had daydreams in which we saw one another again, and I was always climbing down the steps of my private jet. I wanted to see you, but on my terms. I wanted my life to be something I could show off. Pride, I suppose. But you’re here now and I can’t think of a thing to impress you with, and it doesn’t seem to matter.”

“And what did I do? In these daydreams?”

The bag rustled. I heard David chomping on the crisps. “They were fantasies, Andy. You forgave me everything and then you took your clothes off.”

There had been the people I wanted to talk to, and people I wanted to touch. But with David it was both—one would lead to the next and back again, like a tidal river. I’d had one and now I wanted the other.

I remembered now why I’d never thought he’d hurt Em. Why once, being touched by David had been my greatest good. I put my hand out and laid it flat against his chest. After a moment, he moved closer but turned away. I shifted so that I could put my arm around him and lie pressed against his back. For a moment my lips touched the cotton of his shirt. He smelled the same.

I let my thoughts drift. It seemed quite possible that I would fall asleep.

After a while, David turned onto his back and I moved till I was lying with my face against his chest, one leg resting over his.

My stupid body was so happy. It had nerve for this, it seemed. Idly, I wondered what it would cost me this time and why lying down with David was different from lying down with anyone else. It was a mystery, a real one, and as I brought my fingertips to his face, as David’s arms came to hold me, I had the random and startling thought that everyone had them, one or two surprising and inexplicable things in their life, and that in such cases, should one show the doggedness of the detective of a certain kind, something might be revealed, a key of some sort.