Cole raises one eyebrow at me. He’s almost smiling, but not quite.

ORION: Promise me you’ll always come if I play that song for you.

EDEN: I will. I promise. It’s the only song I know.

Cole smiles at me then. A real smile.

ORION: Come and sit beside me.

I walk toward the blanket, and Cole holds out one hand. I take it and lower myself to the floor, but Cole doesn’t let go. My palms are sweaty, and I’m afraid to look at his face.

EDEN: Why did you want me to meet you here tonight?

ORION: So I could give you the stars. You said they made you happy, so I wanted you to have them. They’re yours, Eden. All of them.

Cole makes a sweeping gesture with one arm, and I lift my eyes up toward the loft, but instead of stage lights, I see stars. A million twinkling stars are strung out across an inky night sky like sparkling jewels on a necklace. They’re too beautiful to be real, and I know that. It makes me ache to look at them, so I close my eyes. And when I open them again, the stage lights are back. The stars are gone.

And I miss them.

EDEN: Thank you. I wish I’d brought something to give you.

ORION: You came tonight. That’s enough.

EDEN: Do you believe in fate?

ORION: I don’t know. Do you?

EDEN: I never have before. But I guess maybe I do now, because I think you and I were meant to find each other.

Cole touches me, and one by one I watch the stage lights turn to stars. “Again,” he says. “We were meant to find each other again, Avril.”

“It’s beautiful here,” I whisper. “The water. And the moonlight.”

His fingers are on my cheek. I can’t breathe. I feel dizzy and drunk. And Cole is leaning in. His mouth is so close when he whispers that I’m beautiful. I know he’s finally going to kiss me.

But before his lips touch mine, the scent of lavender fills my nose.

I turn my head and my mother is standing there, silhouetted against the dark like a lighthouse. White-blonde hair. Flashing green eyes. She’s a signal beacon. A warning to sailors.

She reaches for me. There’s the clickety-clack of bony fingers. And the sound of wind chimes. It’s a beautiful, musical tinkling. Light and breezy and carried on the wind.

But for some reason, it fills me with dread.

That pretty sound makes my blood run cold.

And then my mother is gone. She’s vanished. Just disappeared.

One minute there. The next minute not.

My stars start to drop from the sky. They streak across the blackness and land in the water.

Plop.

Plop. Plop.

Plop.

Like the sound of an almost memory.

Look at the stars.