My apartment was the top half of a warehouse. Each of the five floors had two large apartments, creating ten units in all. Three years ago, when I’d first looked at the space, I’d immediately liked its massive square footage, large windows, and reasonable rent. It provided me the space to set up a photo studio in the front half, a small darkroom in a closet, and in the back a galley-style kitchen, my bedroom, and a bath. I used partitions to sequester the rear section when clients visited.

My photography studio was outfitted with a gray backdrop and several vintage settees I’d found at thrift stores to accommodate clients who requested a portrait or the occasional headshot.

The best part of the space was the large window that overlooked the James River and the city of Richmond on the north side. I’d angled my couch toward the window and often sat watching the sunrise. Sleep and I didn’t always get along, so I’d seen my share of breaking dawns.

I set my cake on the concrete kitchen counter, then slid off my coat and tossed it on a chair. “Sorry, nothing to offer you to drink other than coffee, water, or seltzer.”

Kurt set the presents down beside the cake. “I’ve had enough beer and coffee. Don’t need anything,” he said.

He was still very attractive, and it was impossible not to feel the allure. I’d not been with a man since I’d sobered up and was now very aware of that fact. Or maybe this unexpected pull was rooted in his connection to Clare. Maybe on our birthday, I wanted to feel linked to my sister.

In Clare’s last days, she had said sex with Kurt had always been hot, frenetic, full of teenage groping and more hormones than sense. More often than not, it was over before it really began. Still, she’d always been left briefly warmed by a fleeting satisfaction that never lasted.

I wanted to feel that gratification now, even if it lasted only hours or minutes.

His gaze caught mine, heated, and I didn’t look away. I moistened my lips. He was savvy enough to read the cues, and I wondered whether my come-hither look mirrored Clare’s.

He came around the counter and cupped my face in his hands. “I love your eyes. They’ve always tempted me.”

My eyes. So like Clare’s. I stood still, knowing sex would burn off the sizzling nerves that hadn’t gone away after the candles were blown out. I’d coped with these anxieties for several years with drugs and booze. But with those off the table, the sharp edges of my worries cut deeper.