Chapter 63

I’d been coasting along. I’d been passive. A spectator of my own life.

But now I was awake. So bloody awake.

I sat in the chair, at her bed side, and reached for her fingers. “Aunt Frannie—” I was too choked up to speak. I held the tears in. Held the words in, too.

“How was it, hon?” Her eyes had livened and it gave me strength. “How was the dinner party? How is Boone? Lene? Everybody?”

I swallowed the grief down and squeezed her bony fingers. “It was magical, Aunt Fran. Really.”

She smiled. Her gums were white. “And did you see him? Did you see Nicolas?” There was an urgency to her tone. “Did you?”

I leaned in. “Yes, I did. A few days ago.”

She tightened her grip around my fingers, as though she’d fall off a cliff if she ever let me go. “And?Is he still as alluring as he was?”

I thought of Nick’s eyes as they’d roamed over me at the bar.

The effect of them on my soul. My body.

“Oh yes, he is, Aunt Fran.” I kissed her fingers. “Now, more than ever.”