arms around his neck. “I’m thinking I’ve wasted too much fucking time.” And then I kiss him, putting all I am, all I hope to be for him and all I promise our life together will be into that kiss.
I must have done a good job because the way he kisses me back makes my face flush, my blood heat and my toes curl.
DAVID, TRACEY AND JOHN-JOHN ARE SITTING ON A bench watching a mime, big double-dip cones melting in the bright spring sunshine. John-John spies us and thrusts his cone out toward Frey.
“Want some,
Frey leans his head down and takes a lick. “Good stuff.”
David looks over his head at Frey and me. “How’d it go?”
Tracey rises from the bench, digs a hand into her pocket and pulls out a dollar. “Why don’t you put that in the mime’s tip jar?” she tells John-John.
He happily complies. While he’s gone, Tracey says, “I’ll take him to see that clown over there. Give you three a chance to talk.”
David gives her cheek a kiss. “Thanks, Trace.”
John-John bounces back and he and Tracey leave to visit the clown making balloon animals farther down the boardwalk.
David moves over so Frey and I can take a seat. “What did Harris harangue you about this time?”
“The same,” I reply. “Warren Williams’ death. Judith Williams’ disappearance. Things Frey and I know nothing about.”
I wonder how Frey feels about the easy lies that spew from my mouth. At the same time, lying to mortals is what our lives as supernaturals are all about. I know he understands that.
Frey has his arm around my shoulders again and he squeezes. “Harris has two major open cases that he can’t close. It’s no wonder he’s grasping at straws.”
David is like me—not so generous in his appreciation of Harris’ predicament. “I told you, Anna, you should file a harassment suit against him. He has no right to keep bothering you.”
“Well,” Frey says. “Maybe this is the end of it.”
David takes my left hand and holds the ring so he can examine it. “This is one beautiful ring. You’ve set the bar high for the rest of us bachelors.”
“Are you thinking of asking Tracey—?” I stop in mid-sentence, remembering what David said yesterday, remembering that Gloria may still be in the picture.
“No.” He lets my hand drop, fixes me with a steely gaze. “Just saying, if I was thinking of asking anyone to marry me, I’d have to go some to top this ring. How many carats is it—two, three?”
“Two and a half,” Frey answers.
I look at my ring again. I knew it was a good-sized stone but two and a half carats?
“The stone was my great-grandmother’s,” he continues. “I had it reset for Anna. The original setting was pretty ornate.”
I can’t believe I didn’t think to ask about the ring. Frey is a schoolteacher and it never occurred to me to think how much a ring like this would cost. “Your great-grandmother’s stone? Frey, I’m honored. I’ll treasure it always. And when John-John finds someone to marry, we’ll pass it to him.”
David chuckles. “What about when you and Frey have children? There may be a daughter you’ll want to have it. Or another son.”
Of course, David would assume there might be children in our future. It’s obvious Frey can procreate and we’re certainly young enough. It’s the other biological imperative, that I’m vampire, that makes it impossible. Something unknown to David.
Frey picks up the thread smoothly. “Maybe. We’ll have to let nature take its course.”
David stretches his arms over his head. “Well, judging by what a good kid John-John is, I’d say you’re a great father.”
I see a subtle shift in Frey’s expression, sadness clouds his eyes. “I can’t take much credit for that,” he says. “John-John was raised by his mother.”
David’s expression changes, too, sobering. “I’m sorry. I know Anna told me that John-John lost his mother recently.”
Frey shrugs. “Yes. An accident. But Anna and I hope to make a good life for John-John. No one can take the place of his mother, but he’ll always know he’s loved.”
There’s a brief pause, a kind of silent acknowledgment of John-John’s loss, and then David says, “On a different note. When’s the date?”
Frey and I look at each other. We hadn’t discussed it yet.
David smiles. “Just remember—if Tracey and I aren’t invited, there’ll be hell to pay.”
Frey holds out a hand to David. “Might even have to tag you for best man duties.”
David returns the handshake. “It would be my pleasure.”
A squeal of laughter from down the boardwalk captures our attention. John-John is running back toward us, a balloon animal clutched in his hands.
“Look,” he says. “It’s a horse. Just like mine at home.”
And Frey and I exchange another look. Another question we’ve yet to answer. Home. Just where will that be?
Frey kneels down to examine the “horse” made from brown and yellow balloons while I sit back to watch them. It occurs to me that I can’t wait to let my folks know about Frey and John-John. That we’ll have to call them when we get back home this afternoon.
That it scares me how much I love Frey. And how perfect my life seems at this very minute.
That I wish I believed it could be like this forever.
My cell phone chirps. I dig it out of the pocket of my jacket and glance at the caller ID.
“You must be psychic, Mom,” I say. “I was just about to—”
“It’s your dad, Anna.” His voice is sober, serious.
My back stiffens.
“Dad? Is everything all right?”
There’s a hesitation, dead air on the line as ominous as any threat of peril. My heart races. “Dad?”
His breath catches. “It’s your mother, Anna. I think you need to come to France. Now.”
“What’s wrong?”
Frey looks up at me. He must see the fear and uncertainty in my face because his pales. He stands up and steps close.
I listen to my father’s next words. Tell him we’ll leave right away and disconnect.
“What is it, Anna?” Frey asks, touching my arm.
I don’t recognize my own voice. “My mother. She’s dying.”
CHAPTER 7
THE NEXT HOURS ARE A BLUR OF ACTIVITY THAT for a time, at least, dulls the pain. I call my pilot, arrange for him to file a flight plan. John-John and Frey have passports but they’re in Monument Valley so we plan a layover in Farmington, New Mexico—the closest airport large enough to handle my jet. A call to Frey’s friend Officer Kayani and he agrees to pick up the passports and meet us at the airport, a good two and a half hours from their home.
At first I thought it might not be good for John-John to be exposed to a situation so close to what he’s recently been through—the loss of his own mother. But when Frey and I sat him down and explained that I had to go to France because my mother had been taken very ill, his only question was when were
