“Yes, I suppose so.” Ísa frowned. “Then have you ever told him how important it is to you that the people you love stay in touch with you?”

Catie colored. “I’m clingy, aren’t I?”

“Catie, if you were any more independent, I’d put a tracker on you so I could find you when I need to.” Ísa’s tone was full-on teacher-stern. “Honey, that’s Clive talking,” she said with far more gentleness. “You never ask too much. You just ask for what any normal human being asks—that your loved ones don’t leave you hanging, leave you worrying.”

When Catie would’ve spoken, Ísa shook her head. “Are you obsessing over what Danny is doing right now? Did you not sleep all night obsessing over that?”

Catie frowned. “No.” That would be ridiculous. “I mean, after I talked to him and knew he’d arrived safe and sound, I was fine.”

Ísa raised an eyebrow. “How is that clingy? Hmm? He’s far away from you, and you just needed to touch base to make sure he was okay.”

Biting down on her lower lip, Catie said, “The thing is, Issie, I don’t know what’s normal.” She flushed again. “I’ve never really wanted to be with someone this much before.” It was a whispered confession. “I don’t know if it’s normal to message him now and then with random comments… and I want to.”

“Sometimes I really want to strangle Clive,” Ísa muttered darkly. “Catie, I messaged Sailor three times this morning after he left for the main greenhouse complex.”

She held up three fingers. “Once to send him heart emojis because I adore him. Second was to remind him about a meeting that he’d noted down on the jotter next to our home phone and I knew he meant to add to his diary, and last but most importantly, I texted to tell him something hilarious that Emmaline said while I was dropping her off at school.”

Catie was grinning. “Heart emojis?”

“I’m a poet. I’m emotional.” Ísa grinned, unashamed. “He sent me a cactus emoji in reply.”

Catie might’ve taken that for some kind of dig if she hadn’t seen the collection of tiny cacti in hand painted pots that lived on the windowsill of Ísa’s study at home. All of them gifted to her by her husband over the years. Catie didn’t know the full story behind them, but she knew they meant something romantic—Ísa always got a silly smile on her face when she was checking on them.

“My point,” Ísa said, “is that you don’t need to worry about things like that with someone you love and who loves you. There’s no account book, no keeping track. They might think you’re a dork, but they’ll love you for it.”