The morning after the kiss in the library, Lily was jittery. She didn’t know what bothered her more: the kiss itself, or how much she wanted it again.

She kept busy. Hospital rounds. A late shift. Avoiding the estate as much as possible.

By the time she returned that night, the house was eerily quiet except for the soft sound of a piano from the music room.

Curious, she walked down the hall.

Richie.

He played alone, slow and moody notes drifting through the marble. He didn’t look up when she entered.

“You play?” she asked, leaning on the doorframe.

“Only when I’m trying not to think.”

Lily walked in...