Page 33 of Revive Me

He sniffs. “What’s your point.”

My grin grows. “Thrillers aren’t your go-to reads, are they?”

Bingo.

He looks almost offended that I’ve figured him out. “So what if I like reading historical nonfiction?”

History. Interesting.

I raise my hands in surrender. “I don’t know why you’re getting defensive; I was the girl who liked going to the college library on Sundays for a ten-hour study day. I can probably out-nerd you by a thousand.”

“Okay, yeah, you win. That’s psycho behavior, Liliana.”

God, I love how he says my full name.

The thought is a startling one. One I definitely shouldn’t be having about my patient.

I mentally stumble over my thoughts as I try to return to an acceptable,professionalquestion. “So…horror movies and historical nonfiction. Are there any historical horror movies?”

He’s watching me in a way that makes me wonder if he can see my veryunprofessionalthoughts. After a moment, he answers, “Most people would call those war documentaries.”

I laugh despite myself. “Touché.”

“What doyoulike to watch?” Roman asks. “Or read, since we’re on the topic. Those nerdy characteristics couldn’t have disappeared after graduation.” When something occurs to him, he makes a sour face. “Please don’t tell me you still spend your Sundays reading clinical studies all day.”

Not until you came along.

“God, no,” I fib instead. “My job and my days are so insane that I usually need some kind of escapism by the time Sunday night rolls around.”

He nods in understanding. “Guess that explains the thrillers. So, fiction then? What else do you like?”

Wrapping my arms around my knees, I debate my answer. “I go through phases, I guess. Right now, I’m in a fantasy phase. I’m either reading fantasy or watching it. Recently, I watched all seven seasons ofTrue Blood.”

Roman’s eyes widen. “Jesus. That’s a lot of vampires.”

“And it’s technically horror, too,” I add with a grin. “You’d love it.”

“Pass, but thanks,” he says dryly. “I’ll stick with my WWII documentaries.”

Chuckling, I shrug. “Your loss.”

“So…is that what your time outside of here looks like?” Roman asks curiously. “Or are you still jumping out of airplanes with your family in your free time?”

Why does the fact that he remembers so much of our conversation two years ago make me giddy?

But it’s not just that. It’s also that he cares enough to want to know more about menow.

“Not as much as I used to,” I say with a smile I can’t tame. “I was right about my job taking up most of my time and energy. Although I still go on crazy trips with my family.” Then I have to ask, “How onearthdo you remember that? It wastwo years ago.”

Roman shrugs nonchalantly. I think that’s going to be his whole answer, but then he says, “I liked you. I thought you were interesting.”

My heart starts to pound. Because remembering our conversation is one thing, but admitting thewhy…

It’s the first time I’ve gotten confirmation that I wasn’t the only one invested that night.

Suddenly, a loud knock sounds on the back door of the clinic, interrupting my quickly spiraling thoughts.

My head whips toward the gym. “Who?—?”

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