Held captive again. He'd taken a deep breath to reply to Harmony's blather of the minute and found himself speechless. The smell of almost her. The mildness of ivory soap and talcum powder. The crispness of slightly salted skin. He barely dared listen. Previous staccato steps had spelled out a disappointing truth. But this, this was the cadence long memorized by his unbeating heart.

A quarter turn, a quarter century. She was a sun-warmed statuette of Aphrodite. Golden, curved and unreadable. She extended her palmed hand to him. He replied in kind, twining his fingers with hers.

"Yes, I do."