“They did. Ming, Jian-Li, and I all spoke it as well as English while they were growing up. As they got older though, they rebelled. Wanting to be like the kids around them, not wanting to be different, not understanding the importance of history and embracing your culture, even if your family decided years ago to leave the old world behind, they quit speaking it and stopped responding to it.”

He tilted his head on the pillow, tightened his arms, and held her gaze before he shared the rest.

“I think they all regretted doing it when Ming died, but that made it worse for some reason. It was like they didn’t want that reminder, the rebellion against the father they loved. Especially since Ming thought their understanding and respect for their heritage was important. I’ve no idea how much they take in now. They never use it.”

“That’s sad,” she noted.

“It is,” Abel agreed.

Since it was sad, and he was learning Delilah wasn’t about sad, she changed the subject.

“So, you speak very, well…contemporary,” she remarked.

He got her, so he explained, “You adapt, Lilah. I don’t talk like I talked when I first learned English, or when we endured the sixties, or that valley girl bullshit, though I never talked like that.” She grinned and he kept going. “You soak in what’s around you. You probably don’t talk like you did ten years ago either.”

“This is true,” she muttered, her eyes dropping to his shoulder.

It was Abel’s turn for questions.

“Where did you live?”

Her gaze shot back to his and she let out a surprised giggle before her question shook with the same. “What?”

“Before we met, where did you live? Where is the life you’re leaving behind?”

Her eyes went huge before she burst out laughing, her head falling so she could bury her face in his chest, her dark hair all around, her mirth vibrating through his skin, his flesh, straight into his heart.

Another dream come true, seriously so much better as the real thing.

Christ.

His arms tightened further.

She jerked her head back. “I can’t…” She choked, giggled again, then made another attempt. “I can’t believe you don’t know that about me.”

He grinned into her laughing face. “Well, I don’t.”

“New Mexico,” she answered, gulped back more laughter, and went on, “Between Santa Fe and Taos, but I work in Santa Fe.”

“What do you do, bao bei?”

“I’m PA to a lady who owns a string of boutiques,” she replied immediately. “Two in Albuquerque, two in Santa Fe, one in Taos. They’re pretty successful. She travels around a lot, dealing with things hands-on, going to buying shows, shit like that. I manage her travel schedules. Make reports of how the shops are doing. Stuff like that.”

She drew in a breath, her face turned pensive, and she kept going.