Page 89 of Old Flames

“I don’t know. I didn’t write it.”

“When was the last time you used the notebook.”

“Yesterday, when I sat with Dr. Flores.”

“Do you think he might’ve written it? Jotted a few lines to supplement your notes?”

“No,” he answered. “His right hand was in a splint. He could hardly play dominoes. Besides, I don’t pass my journal around.”

She read the phrases again, sounding out the words. “Three lives? This makes no sense.”

“Your Spanish is as good as mine,” he said. “Let’s run it through Google Translate.”

“Or we could ask Vicky,” Jules suggested. “She may be able to put it in context.”

“Good idea.”

Jules used her phone to snap a quick picture and sent it to her friend along with a request for a translation.

Vicky called right away. “What is this? A love poem?”

Jules ignored the question. “What does it mean?”

“‘Tell her that he’s waiting on the other side. He’s been waiting three lifetimes,’” Vicky said. “Very romantic. Did you fall in love in Miami? Is that why you’re not returning my calls?”

“Someone wrote this in Leo’s notebook,” Jules replied, before it hit her. Oh, crap. She’d forgotten the web of deception from which she dangled.

“Leo is in Miami with you?” Vicky asked.

“More like I’m in Key West with him,” Jules admitted.

The line went dead, then her phone flashed again, but this time with the request for a video call.

Jules looked pleadingly at Leo. The moth caught in the web was certain to die there.

“Guess you never told her,” he said with a smart-alecky smirk.

“No,” Jules said. “None of it.”

He kissed her forehead. “For luck, my love. You’re gonna need it.”

She shoved him off and accepted the call. Vicky glared at her through the screen. “I need you to look me in the eye and lie to my face.”

“I can explain,” Jules said.

“Give it a shot.”

“First, how’s your grandmother? Any updates?”

“She’s stable, but please don’t change the subject.”

Leo took the phone from her. “Hey, Vicky. It’s exactly what it looks like. Jules came back for me. We spent the week in bed, and it was fucking great. Does that clear it up?”

Vicky screeched so loudly Leo nearly dropped the phone. Then doubling over with laughter, she managed to say, “I knew it! Swear to God, I knew it!”

Jules loved a man who could think on his feet. Leo had bought her time. That bit of red meat would keep the wolf satisfied. When she returned to New York, she’d tell Vicky the whole story. For now, they could focus on this mysterious message.

“I’m confused. Are you writing secret love poems for each other?” Vicky asked, recovering from her laughing spell.