@ouiouikitty - harsh, but alas probably true 
@FortunesFave wow, that’s really impressive. Did you find it hard to shift to literary writing, and how long did it take you? Also, I had another go at heavy trimming but trying to retain the tone:
“I wanted to figure him out. I thought you were one of the clues.” She looked up with a clear, grey gaze. Her directness, her here-and-now-ness, threw me entirely.
I’d assumed this was all the opening sally of an elaborate con, which began with Keith (because didn’t he always bring chaos to my door) and ended with the loss of something I couldn’t easily get back.
I'd parsed each of her words for alternate meanings and ulterior motives, rifling through the old internal Rolodex of traps and disastrous outcomes, blood thumping, trying to get a match.
I could have told her to leave. I should have said, I’m sorry this happened, but I’ve no interest in going back. But instead, after a moment in which all this skittered through my mind and the words bounced off the walls and hit themselves on their way back, I said: “What do you think you need to know?”
She took a collecting breath.
“What did he tell you, about all that before? And where did you come in?”
Where did I come in? You’d be better asking where did I go out - where did I go to?
Which of the thread-tails which make up the fabric of now would lead us back to the start of it all? And how to begin, when nothing means anything without the rest, and things that hadn’t yet happened would determine how right or wrong you were when you did what you did? How to begin, with only words to begin with?
She was looking at me with the same pausedness as before, as if she could go no further till I picked up my lines and delivered them. And somehow, between her pushing open the cafe door, and this pause here, I found I had agreed to play my part.
“He told me some of it the first night I met him, and after that neither of us wanted to go back. Or we couldn’t go back, I don’t know. Well, we went forwards anyway.”
@PrawnCorset I guess the rolodex ref implies a frustrating clunkiness of thought as s/he wrestles with the dilemma of whether to get involved? And/or that the narrator is over a certain age. And I will keep Keith now
. My lucky Keith. I did see it mentioned in Baby Names recently 