I wished I could feel his beard, trace the line of his jaw until I could find his pulse point at the base of his throat. I wished I could know if his heart was beating as hard as mine.

“I saw a ghost once,” he said.

“You did? Where?” I didn’t believe him and he could tell.

He smiled again, unconcerned. “An old house near where I used to live. Everyone said it was haunted.”

“So you just stopped by to check it out? Test out your male prowess?”

“I was visiting the owner. Unfortunately, she had died the night before. I found her body on the sofa, with her brother sitting beside her, which was interesting since he had died fifty years earlier.”

I was still dubious. “What did you do?”

“I said thank you.”

“Why?”

“Because once upon a time, her brother saved my life.”

I scowled, agitated by the coyness of his reply, and worse, the ten thousand nerve endings he had now stroked to life.

“Is it always going to be like this between us?” I asked abruptly.

“Like what?” But his hand was retreating, his face shuttering up.

“Half answers. Semi-truths. I ask a simple question, you dole out one tidbit of information while hoarding the rest.”

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “Will it always be like this between us?”

“We’re married!” I said impatiently. “It’s been three years, for God’s sake. We should be able to trust each other. Tell each other our deepest darkest secrets, or at least the basics of where we come from. Isn’t marriage supposed to be a conversation that lasts a lifetime? Aren’t we supposed to take care of each other, trust one another to keep each other safe?”

“Says who?”

I startled, shook my head. “What do you mean, says who?”

“I mean, says who? Who makes up these rules, sets these expectations? A husband and wife should keep each other safe. A parent should take care of a child. A neighbor should look after a neighbor. Who sets these rules and what have they done for you lately?”

His voice was gentle, but I knew what he meant and the starkness of his words made me flinch

He said softly, “Tell me about your mother, Sandy.”

“Stop it.”

“You claim to want to know all my secrets, but you keep your own.”

“My mother died when I was fifteen. End of story.”

“Heart attack,” he stated, repeating my previous assertions.

“It happens.” I turned away.

After a moment, Jason’s fingertips brushed my cheek, whispering across my lowered eyelashes.

“It will always be like this between us,” he said quietly. “But it won’t be this way for Ree.”

“There are things you lose you can’t get back,” I whispered.

“I know.”