“Jane.”
She closed her eyes briefly, her smile faint but content, and when she opened them again, Morgan was searching her face. “Yes?”
“You said you loved that man.”
“I did say that, didn’t I?”
“Did you mean it?”
“Do I often say things I don’t mean?”
“Right now I can’t think of one.”
“Well, there is your answer.”
“I wish you’d say it again. Straight. To me.”
Jane leaned forward and brushed his lips. She lifted her head to stare into his eyes. “I love you, Morgan Longstreet.”
His sigh was barely audible, mostly just a gentle rise and fall of his chest. “It feels even better than I thought it might.”
“You thought about it?”
“Some.” The way his mouth curved made him look very young suddenly and just a little abashed. “All right. A lot.”
“I think that’s nice.”
“Have you ever said it before?”
“I’m sure I must have said it to my mother and father.”
“But what about to someone like me?”
“Like you?” She pressed her lips together, thinking.
“Jane.”
“No, Morgan. I’ve never said it to someone like you. Aside from the fact that there is no one like you, I have never loved another man and therefore have felt no urge to say so.”
Morgan tapped his chest with his forefinger. “It’s the boy. He needed to know.”
“I understand. It’s all right.”
“I’ve never said it to anyone.”
“You still haven’t.”
“Should I say it now?”
“Only if you want to. Only if it’s true.”
“Do you mind if I wash off the stink of Zetta Lee first?”
“I think I’d prefer it.”
Morgan sat up. Jane released his hand as he moved to the edge of the bed. Tightening the towel at his waist, he stood and padded to the washroom. Jane watched him go. When he shut the door she lay down and pulled the covers up to her shoulders. Smiling to herself, she closed her eyes. She did not remember falling asleep.
Jessop cracked an egg against the side of a bowl and prepared to separate the shell with his thumbs.
