She knew exactly what it was before she’d even pulled it out. But seeing it, in her hand, made her gasp. She pushed herself back against the wall, her legs folded into her, as if averting an oncoming heart attack. And that was what it felt like – a full-frontal, brutal attack on her heart.

Once more, it seemed Rachel had the power to reach beyond time and mortality to touch her in a way that made the pathetic mess she’d made of things seem insignificant and it was as if everything was suddenly clear. It was all perfectly fixable.

This locket – so old, so precious – stood for everything between them. Not just her and Rachel, but all three of them – Pete as well. Wasn’t it Pete who’d fixed the delicate clasp? Wasn’t it Pete who’d rescued it from the floor of a heaving nightclub? Wasn’t it Pete who’d bought her the new secure chain on which it now hung? Wasn’t it Pete who’d held the delicate locket together? It was. The truth was, it was Pete who’d held everything together after Rachel died. In fact, it was Pete who’d held them all together when Rachel was alive too and he’d been doing it ever since. He’d been buoying Liv up with thoughtful texts, dropping off little gifts when she needed her spirits lifted, always being there if she was stuck. Even when she didn’t realise she needed help, he supplied it, quietly, seamlessly, without any expectation of thanks or compensation.

A wave of something between nausea, migraine and yes, grief, washed over Liv. It was her turn to save Pete. Anya was in his apartment. They were getting back together. Hadn’t Anya said so? Hadn’t that been the insinuation when she’d looked at her with those catty green eyes? She couldn’t let that happen. Anya didn’t love Pete, not the way he deserved to be loved. That was a sobering thought.

She had to try for Rachel. Rachel had adored him; they’d just never had the time, soul mates pulled apart cruelly. Liv loved him far too much to sit back and see him ending up with Anya. Even if he never spoke to her again, she couldn’t see him set up for a lifetime of being used. He deserved so much more. He deserved to know what it was like to be loved, really loved, and not just because he was generous and thoughtful, or because he was good-looking – yes, he really was very attractive. She wanted to cry with frustration, but she knew she’d done enough crying. It was time to put aside the mistakes of the past and figure out a plan for the future.