Page 351 of Romeo

Jasper leaned back on one hand. “You hungry?”

I turned toward him. “That’s your transition?”

“You spent the mornin’ emotionally rearrangin’ your entire family. Seemed rude to let you starve.”

A laugh escaped me. He grinned.

“There she fuckin’ is.”

I nudged his shoulder with mine. “You’re annoying.”

“Married me anyway.”

We stayed on the dock after that, and for the first time since arriving, Jasper told me about the bayou without me having to drag the stories out of him. He pointed toward a narrow channel almost hidden behind the trees and told me he and Gator had once gotten a boat stuck there badly enough that they spent half a day waist-deep in mud trying to free it.

Another story involved a fishing trip, three boys, absolutely no adult supervision, and a decision involving fireworks Jasper refused to describe because, according to him, the statute of limitations probably had not expired.

I listened and tried to picture him younger. Not Romeo. Not a Silver Shadow. Jasper. A boy running through Louisiana with his cousins, getting filthy, making terrible decisions, and returning home to women who apparently knew exactly how much trouble they could find.

The stories did something I hadn’t expected. Yesterday had been about discovering the life that came before Fiona. Today, Jasper gave me pieces of the life that came before Romeo.

By late afternoon, I had stopped checking the water every time something moved. Jasper grilled something outside that probably contained more seasoning than any human being needed, and I helped prepare the rest while he complained that I was cutting things wrong. I reminded him that if he wanted them cut correctly, he was welcome to do it himself.

He wisely shut up.

Nothing happened. The burner didn’t ring. No boats appeared around the bend. Nobody came looking for us.

King still had nothing.

Gator still had nothing.

Sal had heard nothing.

For the first time, I allowed myself to wonder if the dark SUV had simply been another vehicle traveling some of the same roads. Jasper had noticed it because he was already worried about me. I had become frightened because I saw his reaction. Maybe that was all it had ever been. I didn’t know. Neither did Jasper, and that mattered.

As evening settled over the bayou, turning the water darker beneath the trees, I carried two drinks out to the porch and found him leaning against the railing. For the first time since we arrived, I didn’t feel like I was waiting for the next thing to go wrong. I handed him one of the glasses and moved beside him, letting the quiet stretch between us.

Jasper looked over at me. “You okay?”

“I think so.” I leaned against his shoulder and watched the water move beneath the trees. “I don’t want to think about tomorrow yet.”

His arm came around me. “Then don’t.”

I smiled against his chest. For once, there was nowhere we had to be, nobody demanding answers, and nothing we could do except wait for everyone else to figure out what they knew.

So we stayed.

For now, the bayou could belong to us.

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

Fiona

Morning light slipped through the thin curtains in pale gold stripes, falling across the rumpled sheets and the bare stretch of Jasper’s shoulder beside me. I woke slowly, without the jolt that followed me through the last several days. No voices outside the door. No phone ringing with another piece of my life somebody else had discovered before I did. Just the steady hum of insects beyond the screens, the distant movement of water, and Jasper sleeping deeply enough that I could study him without being caught.

He looked younger asleep. Not innocent, because I wasn’t sure Jasper DuBois had ever managed innocent a day in his life, but softer. The sharp humor was gone from his mouth, and the constant awareness that lived behind his eyes had disappeared with them closed. One arm rested above his head while the other lay across the mattress between us, his wedding ring catching a thin strip of sunlight.

My husband.