Page 141 of Romeo

Me: Mine better not be black.

Jasper: Cream and sugar.

My smile faded into something softer. He remembered everything.

Me: You’ve put a lot of thought into this.

Jasper: I’m planning ahead.

Me: For what?

Jasper: Sunday mornings.

My fingers went still.

There were no promises in those two words, at least not the kind either of us had spoken aloud. He hadn’t told me exactly what he saw when he imagined those mornings or how far into the future they lived.

He’d simply put me there.

That somehow felt more intimate than if he’d said something enormous.

I set the phone against my chest and stared at the ceiling. Somewhere in Nebraska, Jasper knew how I drank my coffee. He knew I’d argue for waffles. He knew my favorite flowers, which season I loved, and where I liked to sit when I wanted to enjoy the quiet.

Little pieces he was collecting, and now he was imagining a place for those pieces in his life.

Tears stung unexpectedly behind my eyes.

I hated that my first reaction to something beautiful was fear.

Because Jasper could imagine Sunday mornings with me only because he didn’t know everything yet.

He didn’t know about Charlie.

The thought sat quietly beside everything else, impossible to ignore now.

I looked at the phone again.

I’m planning ahead.

How could I let him do that while I was still withholding something that might change the plans?

I didn’t answer immediately. Eventually our conversation wandered somewhere safer, into music and his claim that the breakup songs on one of his playlists were romantic if I listened to them correctly. By one in the morning, I’d laughed at him enough that I should’ve been tired.

Instead, the house was silent and I was still awake.

My phone rested beside me now, screen dark.

Nash’s warning had been difficult enough when Jasper was only the man I wanted.

It was worse now that he’d started talking about a future.

I picked up the phone again.

There were a dozen ways to start this badly. I tried several in my head.

I need to tell you something that might change your mind.

Remember those Sunday mornings? You might want to rethink them.