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help if you
decided to give sex another chance.”
    “No, thank you.
My life is much less stressful this way. I’m more convinced than ever that sex
is overrated.”
    Caleb gave her
a half-smile. “Can you honestly tell me you have no sexual desires?”
    “Occasionally,”
she admitted, shrugging her shoulders and tucking her legs underneath her. “But
it’s actually a lot easier than you might think. Once in a while, I’ll have a
passing whim, or I’ll see an attractive man who will spark something ,
but if you don’t entertain those ideas, they go away pretty quickly. Once sex
is no longer part of your pattern of thinking, it lifts right out of your
life.”
    “I know it
wouldn’t be so easy for me, and I promise I’m never going to give it a try. By
the way, do you have plans next Saturday?”
    Marissa thought
over her schedule. “No. I’m free. Why?”
    “The symphony
is having a big fundraising, cocktail-party thing. I thought maybe you’d go
with me.”
    She frowned.
“Why don’t you ask Karen?”
    “Don’t start
nagging.”
    “Fine.”
    “Fine, you
won’t nag? Or, fine, you’ll go with me?”
    “Fine, I’ll go
with you. I’d never promise not to nag.”
    “I thought that
might be too much to hope for.”
    She’d been
scowling at him—mostly for effect—but she perked up as she had a sudden
thought. “I can wear my new shoes. Did I tell you about them?”
    She knew she
had, but she liked to see his expression.
    “Yes, you told
me. You woke me up this afternoon just to tell me how amazing they are.”
    “It’s good for
you to be woken up. You shouldn’t sleep all day.”
    He had such a
strange schedule, with so many late evening performances, that he’d never
developed a normal sleep routine.
    Just one of the
many things she worried about for him.
    She reached
over to pat his left hand, and for the first time noticed it was damaged. “Caleb,”
she gasped, snatching up his hand and holding it in both of her own. “What the
hell happened to you?”
    He tried to
pull his hand away, but Marissa resisted, bringing it up closer to her face so
she could inspect the bruised knuckles. It looked terrible, now that she saw
it. How could she have failed to notice it earlier?
    “It’s nothing,”
he mumbled, managing to retrieve his hand at last. “It’s not a big deal.”
    “It is a big
deal. Your hands are a big deal.”
    He needed his
hands to play the cello.
    Without his
music, the world would be a much less beautiful place.
    He didn’t
respond, so she sighed and got up. When she returned with an ice-pack, Caleb
was scowling.
    “Damn it, Marissa.
I don’t need you to fuss over me. It’s not a big deal.”
    Ignoring his
silly complaints, she regained possession of his hand. Held it in her lap while
she placed the ice-pack over his slightly swollen knuckles.
     “I’m not a
child. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of my own minor injuries.” He
pulled his hand away again. “I don't know why you always insist on making me
suffer through your noble impulses.”
    She reached for
him again. This time, when she grabbed his hand, they had a small scuffle until
he relented and let her put the ice-pack on his knuckles again. “What happened
to it?”
    “It’s just from
working out.”
    “Working out?
It looks like you punched something. How did you hurt it working out?”
    He didn’t
answer.
    “You’re not doing
a stupid sport, are you? Like boxing or some sort of martial arts thing that
might damage your hands?
    Still no reply.
    That was answer
enough.
    “Caleb, it’s
crazy. Your hands are too important. What are you think—”
    “Let it go,
Marissa. This is in my space.”
    His space .
Those were the words he always used to tell her she was invading his privacy
too much, treading on territory he didn’t want her involved in.
    She usually
backed off as soon as he said it.
    She didn’t want
to let it go this evening, though. Something about the sight of his damaged
hand