“And it’s still so dark after all this time,” he said. “Maybe the town never forgot the memory.”

I smiled, sweeping my eyes over the house. “Memories do tend to linger here.”

The lights flicked on and a second later, the door closed behind us. “Make yourself at home,” he said. “I’ll grab some towels.”

Before I could assure him that I was already well on my way to dry, he disappeared up the stairs. I was too wired to sit, so I walked around the living room instead.

The coffee table books I’d laid out for his arrival had been stacked to one side, replaced with pencils, sheets of paper, and a thin layer of dust. I ran my finger over his coffee table, creating a large heart. It was more of an absent doodle than a confession, but the thought struck me that he might not see it that way. Quickly, I used my forearm to wipe the heart away, leaving a clean, rectangular splotch in its place.

My hand brushed a familiar notebook. Tan, nondescript cover, smudged with charcoal pencil. The moment hung suspended in front of me. I was still, eyeing it like a predator. Levi’s sketchbook. Right in front of me.

There was no sound of footsteps, no voice to alert me of his impending arrival. I sucked in a breath and sat down. I knew it was wrong, knew it was a betrayal to violate his privacy, but it was too late—I was already reaching for it. Curiosity had me in its thrall as I remembered the secrecy with which he’d sidestepped Elodie’s nosiness a few weeks ago. She’d wanted to poke into his sketches, but he’d said whatever he’d been working on wasn’t ready to share. Maybe now it was.

The first few pages were of buildings and churches, probably places he’d been inspired by during his travels. A ton of faces, some landscapes, even the odd floral arrangement or two. Then the sketches began to change. The pencil more ferocious, the color rich and dark and smudged with fingerprints. The gray stains had transferred to the back of the preceding page.

One face became more common, standing out from the sea of eyes and noses and lips. A girl with long hair down to mid-back, diamond-bright eyes standing out like moons, and rounded, impish eyebrows. She wasn’t smiling but she still looked back smilingly at me, a secret in her eyes and on her lips. I traced my finger over her cheekbones, recognizing myself.

My mouth turned dry; I couldn’t look away.

Levi still wasn’t back. I continued flipping pages. My face made an appearance every so often, in different poses, but with the same look on her beautiful face. Like she and the artist shared a secret.

My stomach squirmed. I closed the book.

“I’ve got the towels!” he called out.