Frogs apparently, at nightfall, don’t shut the hell up. I sat on the back step, my arms wrapped around my knees, and listened to them. It was a concert of sounds, almost beautiful in their varieties.

I swiped at a mosquito and resisted the urge to glance at my phone. I pictured Lance, on his way home from my parents’ house, his stomach packed with gooey hot lasagna. Mom made the best lasagna. Five layers high. Four types of cheese. Packed with enough sausage and beef to make you roll over on the couch and belch in satisfaction.

I, on the other hand, had a microwave hot dog for dinner. Thirty seconds on high, the skinny dog wrapped in a napkin, and a little wrinkly when I pulled it from the microwave. Dipped in ketchup and mustard and washed down with some ginger ale. It actually hadn’t been that bad. Had it not been competing with Ma’s lasagna, I probably would have enjoyed it.

“Hey.” Laurent’s boots shook the wooden porch, and I looked over my shoulder and up at him, perking up at the phone he held out. “It’s da big man. For you.”

I pushed to my feet and grabbed the phone from his hand. “Thank you.”

Turning away, I lifted the phone to my ear. “Hey.”

“Hey, love.” He sounded tired, the vowels gruff, but there was a lilt in the greeting, something that gave me hope. “Ready to come home?”

I squealed, jumping a little in place at the unexpected gift. “Yes. Now. Immediately. When?”

“I’ve got to meet with the funeral director first thing in the morning, then I’ll head to the airport. I’ll be there by one or two, your time.”

I nodded. “I’ll be ready.”

He chuckled, and I wished I could see it, could see the stretch of those beautiful features, the glint of his grin, the way his eyes warmed, and he looked at me as if I alone held the key to his happiness.

“Are you okay, Bell?”

It was the wrong question at the wrong time, the tender concern in his voice puncturing my dam of control.

I pinched my eyes shut and fought to maintain my composure. “I’m fine.” The last word whispered out of me, trembling in its delivery, and he would have had to be deaf not to hear it.

“I’m going to make everything right. When you—when we come back here—I’ll do everything right. Take care of you. Protect you. You’re going to want for nothing, do you understand that?”

It was a desperate question, his control wobbling, and the man still didn’t understand what made me tick. He still waved money and finery in the same fist as love and comfort, not recognizing the value in his presence. I wanted him. I wanted his love. His time. His attention. Nothing else.

“Do you understand? This isn’t like before. Everything has changed now.”

“Yes.”

Everything has changed now. He was right. No Gwen. No Hawk. I would go back to Vegas with him and ... my mind tried to grasp the idea of what my new reality would be.

What was a single Dario like? How would he be as a boyfriend? His wife had just died. What emotional capacity, if any, would he have? And he had just been accused of murdering his wife. Without a trial or proof of Robert Hawk’s guilt, the paparazzi—and the public opinion— would follow him, and us, everywhere.

Everything has changed now. He said it like it was a good thing, but standing in the damp heat of a Louisiana night, Laurent’s phone pressed to my ear ... I wanted a moment where everything went back to how it had been. Careless sexual chemistry. Late night texts. Butterflies and forbidden moments.

Everything has changed now.

“I love you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I love you too.”

He paused, and I could feel the weight of the silence, the press of some unasked question hanging between us. I waited, but he only told me goodbye, and we hung up.

I took a deep breath, then went to tell Laurent the news.

The airport was eerily familiar. Still deserted. Still broken pavement and a chain-link fence. When I was last here, I’d stumbled off that plane, afraid and intimidated further by the giant man who met me there. Now, I stood next to Laurent, staring out at the sunny runway, and breathed in the familiar scent of his soap.

“Thank you. For everything.” I fought the urge to hug him. It would be awkward, most definitely. He’d probably untangle my arms and step away. Or stand stick straight and pat my back with the sort of motion you reserve for elderly grandmothers. I looked back to the runway and tucked my hands into my back pockets instead. “I know I was a total pain in the ass.”

He shrugged. “You was.”

I laughed, and a dragonfly buzzed away, as if surprised by the sound.

Laurent shifted, started to speak, then stopped himself. I waited, curious about what he was struggling to get out.

“Let me tell you a little bit about our boy. This wasn’t a small thing, sending you here. And right now, he probably feels a little broken. This isn’t the first time he’s lost someone he’s close to, someone that he felt responsible to take care of.”

He leaned forward and spat in the dirt. “You know, Dario lost his Momma as a teenager.”

I nodded.

“He didn’t handle it well. All but killed himself on alcohol and loose women, got locked up half a dozen times before he was able to figure himself out.”

He glanced at me. “This time, he’s handling it da best that he can. And he’s doing a lot betta than I thought. But it’s going to be hard on him, Gwen’s daddy dying like that. It takes away Dario’s ability to handle the situation. He’s going to feel cheated. So go easy on him. Be patient with him.”

“He loved her.” I swallowed, my pride struggling with the right words. “It’s hard for me, seeing that—”

“Easy now.” He pulled me in front of him, making me look him square in the eyes. “It was a different sort of love, what he had for her. I’ve known that man since I was a babe, grew up next to him. I’ve never known him to really fall for a woman before. He hadn’t ever let ‘emself do that, or never found da right woman.”

I looked away from him and he tightened his grip on my shoulders. I reluctantly brought my gaze back to his face.

“But he’s acting different with you. I’ve been watching what he’s doing. He spent a long time making that life with Gwen and hadn’t veered off that path for thirteen years, now. For him to have risked it, for him to still be chasing you down and sticking by your side? That not the Dario I know. That a different man. So?” He shrugged. “Maybe it be love. Maybe you the one for him. I hadn’t seen enough of you together. But he coulda sent you anywhere to be protected. He sent you here, to his home. He’s fought for you in that hell of a city and risked being locked up over it. And now he’s coming back to get ya, the first chance he get. Those are big steps for our big man.”

We heard it then, the faint drone that grew louder. I lifted my chin and stared at the sky, finding the moving lights, the dip of the plane as it curved toward the runway. I shook free of Laurent and stepped out onto the open pavement, and watched his approach, wondering if he could see me.

Laurent’s words followed me, hummed in my ears, even as the plane drew closer, its engine louder, my clothes beginning to press against my body from the force of the wind.

I had viewed being here as a curse. But maybe, instead, it had been a blessing. A sign of Dario’s love.

The plane coasted down, bouncing slightly on the runway before touching the ground, the noise deafening, the force of the wind flattening my hair across my face, the dark strands tangling in my mouth and nose. I pushed them away and turned back to Laurent.

“THANK YOU!” I called out the words and he nodded. I stepped forward, unable to resist, and flung my arms around him, gripping him tightly in a hug.

He handled it well. No polite taps on the shoulder. No stiff stillness. He squeezed me carefully, then released me. “You take care of yourself. And him.”

I stepped away. “I will.” Turning, I jogged to meet the plane.

DARIO

He could see her through the fogged glass of the King Air. Hair whipping in the wind. Arms tightly crossed over her abdomen. She stopped and waited, her head turning to face into the breeze. The sight of her was almost painful. He’d felt the same way a few days ago, hidden in Laurent’s truck, watching her talk to him on the phone. Every movement she’d made had been a tug on his heart, his guilt, his need.

What if he lost her, too? How would he handle it? How could he continue?

The fear was so intense he almost pushed away, had attempted to fight for distance during this last week, had struggled to find his ground—one separate from her.

But he couldn’t. His fear was intermingled with love—or caused by it. The stronger the fear grew, the stronger the love became. His only option was to remove all risks. Keep her safe, treat her like a queen, win her heart. Go all in, and hope that luck, for just this one time, was in his favor.

The plane settled to a stop, the locks disengaging, and he pushed himself out of the seat and forced the heavy door open. The airlock broke, and the humidity rushed in, bringing with it the familiar scent of pollen and swamp. He cranked it fully open and unfolded the steps, jumping over them in his haste to get on the ground and into her arms.

When they met, her hug had the strength of a tiger. She gripped him fiercely, and their lips met. Collided. Melted.

He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off the ground, his mouth greedy on hers, sucking, kissing, nipping at her lips. He had missed her taste, her fire, her need. The warmth of her hug, the give of her body, the shine in those eyes. He pulled away and stared down at her, memorizing every inch of her delicate features.

So beautiful. So strong. His. He would learn. He’d learn to love her without restraint, without the fear of evil lurking, without the many facades and lies.

She was his future.