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He found a book she had been searching for since winter, along with a pressed leaf she did not remember keeping. She discovered he disliked one of her favorite poets and insisted a travel writer she considered pompous was deliberately amusing.

“He complains about bedding for four pages,” Charlotte said, tapping the open book. “I cannot imagine how he found so much to say.”

Alexander glanced over her shoulder, his sleeve brushing hers. “Perhaps it was exceptionally poor bedding.”

“Then he ought to have slept elsewhere,” she replied, looking up at him.

“And deprived you of the pleasure of disapproving?” he asked, his eyes bright with amusement.

Charlotte shook her head, smiling. She liked having him close, though he made it hard to attend to the books. She set the travel account aside and reached for another volume.

As she opened it, a folded paper slipped from between the pages. Alexander caught it before it reached the floor and held it out to her. “Oh.” Charlotte recognized the faded blue line along one edge. Her smile faded into surprise as she took it from him and handled the worn paper carefully. “I had forgotten this was here.”

He looked down, then held it out without unfolding it. She took it and smoothed the creases. The map was smaller than she remembered. For years, she had kept it folded inside whichever book she was reading. Tiny marks in her own handwriting crowded the margins, each marking a place she intended to visit. The ink had browned with age.

“I thought I had lost this,” Charlotte said, carefully unfolding the worn paper.

Alexander moved beside her. His shoulder brushed hers as he looked down at the faded marks. “Every place you ever wished to visit.” He smiled. “Your prospective journeys.”

“My very ambitious journeys.” She smiled, a little embarrassed by how many places she had marked.

“You were determined,” he recalled, warmth in his voice.

“I was young,” she said quietly. She’d had so many dreams. She set them all aside once she married.

“You need not be young to wish to see Florence,” he said softly.

Charlotte glanced at him. He had remembered that, too. Pleased by his thoughtfulness, she spread the map upon the table and weighted one corner with a book. Italy lay before her, its familiar outline bringing back plans she had scarcely thought about in years. “I used to think that once I married, there would be opportunities,” she said quietly.

Alexander turned toward her, listening. “Sylvan enjoyed traveling. I thought we might go together.” She smoothed a crease with her fingertip, reluctant to meet his eyes. “There was always some reason for me to remain behind.”

She had no wish to recount those reasons. She had accepted them one after another until she eventually stopped asking. Remembering it now brought a familiar disappointment, though she no longer blamed herself for his choices.

Alexander rested a hand upon the table beside the map. “Where would you go first?” he asked.

Charlotte considered the places she had marked. She had once answered that question without hesitation. Now she gave herself a moment to decide. “Venice,” she said at last, looking up at him. “I should like to the ethereal floating city.”

His mouth curved. “What would you do?”

“Look at everything,” she said, glancing away. “Become thoroughly lost.” Her spirits lifted as she imagined it. “Purchase something impractical.”

“That sounds like a very good beginning,” he said.

Charlotte smiled. “And you?” He raised his brows. “What would you do in Venice?” she asked.

“Probably attempt to find you,” he replied, glancing at the many marks upon the map.

Charlotte laughed, then lowered her gaze to the paper. She appreciated that he had let her talk without offering to plan it for her. His interest made it easier to admit how much she still wanted to go. “I would enjoy your company,” she said. Alexander waited, giving her time to continue. “When I go,” she added, meeting his eyes. “I do not think I would enjoy all of it alone.”

“No,” he said gently. “Perhaps not.”

She felt a little foolish, hoping he understood. Yet his quiet attention reassured her, and she reached for his hand. “I have not stopped wanting things, Alexander.”

His fingers closed around hers. “I never thought you had.”

“I have become rather accomplished at setting them aside,” she admitted. She looked at their joined hands, grateful that he’t ask her to explain further.

Alexander glanced at the map, then looked back at her. “Will you keep that somewhere you can find it?”