I got to my knees and Renata’s fingers laced around my wrist, stopping me. “Epifania,” she said it softly, almost tenderly. I struggled, caught between uncertainty and desire. “It has been years since you’ve said my name that way.” She propped herself up on elbows, bringing our bodies dangerously close. “What way?” she breathed the words. “Like it’s something sweet on your tongue.” I turned away, willing myself not to look at her. She touched my cheek much as she had earlier. “It was always more than your name that was sweet upon my tongue.” An unseen vice gripped my chest. I tried to pull my hand away, and Renata’s grip tightened at my wrist. As if we were doing a graceful dance, she followed me as I sat up, trying to get out of the bed. I moved back once, twice.
