“I’m okay,” he mumbled. Between each loud sob, I kissed him all over his face and neck. His hands rested on my thighs. He let me smother him with kisses while my tears spilled all over his face. I wanted to cradle and rock him like a baby. I wanted to soothe him. But at that point I was the one who needed the soothing.

“Baby, stop crying, please. I know that was scary for you, but I’m okay. I messed up. That’s never happened before.” He became more alert. He brought his hands up to my face and wiped away the tears. “I’m sorry I couldn’t take care of you.”

“We can take care of each other,” I said instantly, and then as if a new portal in my brain had been unlocked, I remembered my dream. The whispers.

It was a moment, like so many I’d had before, where I’d go the entire day not remembering my dream from the previous night and then suddenly, it would be triggered by a smell or a song or a comment made by a colleague and the dream would rush back to me, like a tidal wave of memories. That’s what happened in the truck that night. I remembered my dream—the dream. I was there again, hovering over Rose’s body, the sound of heartbeats streaming loudly, except I realized there were two sets beating. I leaned down over her to listen, but the sound wasn’t coming from her. It was a human sound, a living sound. My memory of the dream was clear, finally. When she spoke, her voice was soft and melodic, but pleading.

Take care of each other, she said, and then she glanced at the figure standing next to me. It was Jamie, and the heartbeats were ours. His and mine.

In the truck, still straddling him, I held my hand to my heart.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing.” I shivered.

“Calm down. Everything is okay.”

“I know.” I laid my head on his chest and he held me tightly. An hour must have passed. Every few minutes I would look up at his face to check on him and he would smile at me every time, but we remained quiet and still, just holding each other.

Finally, I crawled off of his lap. “Shouldn’t I take you to the hospital?”

He shook his head. “I’m okay. I just need to eat something.”

“Oh yeah.” I pulled a Balance bar from my purse, unwrapped it quickly, and held it to his mouth.

He laughed. I knew he was going to be okay. “I can feed myself. Thank you, Katy.” Before he reached for the bar, he swallowed and then stared sharply into my eyes. “I mean it. Thank you.”

I shook my head. “I know, I know. You don’t need to thank me. Here, eat this, please.” He bit off half of the bar and then set it on the dashboard. I looked at my phone. It was two a.m. He pulled his jeans down to where I had given him the shot and looked at the injection site. He rubbed the area and winced a little.

“You’re going to have a bruise. I jabbed you really hard.”

“You did,” he said with a hint of amusement in his voice. “You got me good, lady.” He buckled his belt and pulled out his meter to check his blood sugar. “Do you always carry food in your purse?”

I blushed. “I read on the glucagon kit the other day that sometimes you have to give diabetics food right away.”

He looked up beatifically. “God, you are the sweetest thing.”

I smiled, but a tear fell from my eye at the same time. “How’s your level?”

“I’m good.”

“I think I should drive, Jamie.”

“Sweetheart, even if I were half conscious, our odds of getting home safely are much higher with me behind the wheel.” He smiled playfully. “No offense.”

“You’re probably right.”

“Did you pull over here because you felt groggy?”

“Yeah. I should have metered earlier. Sometimes it gets confusing, especially if I’m distracted, and then I ran out of glucose tablets. It was stupid, I’m really sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, you did the right thing by pulling over. Next time wake me up.”

“I promise.”

It was a promise for a next time. That was all I could think about in that moment. Not a next time Jamie got that low—just a next time, period.

Jamie drove us back to the winery with his window all the way down and the heater cranked up so he could keep himself alert without freezing me out. I kept my eyes on the road along with him. He pulled up the long driveway and then continued onto a dirt road until we were parked in front of the barn.

He looked over apprehensively. “Do you want to stay with me tonight?”

“It’s already tomorrow.”

“Do you want to stay with me tomorrow?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He held my hand until we were inside the barn, and then he flipped on the lights and watched me take it all in. It was no barn on the inside. Whoever the brilliant designer was, he left the natural beams exposed but finished the walls with white slate wood. The floors were aged teak and there were large rustic chandeliers hanging from the highest points of the ceiling. It was at least forty feet high in the center. Above one set of beams in the gable space were shelves filled with books and a little ladder leading up to it. I walked around, fascinated. The décor was warm, rich, and masculine. It was an immaculate snapshot of a Restoration Hardware catalogue. The kitchen followed in the same vivid design, with a farmhouse sink and Shaker cabinets. Jamie leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets, watching me.

“It’s amazing. Who did this?”

“I did.”

I laughed to myself. Of course he did. “R.J. let you have this space?”

He nodded.

The entire floor plan was open. There were only partial walls dividing the spaces, much like a loft, except for the bathroom, which had a modestly designed door compared to the rest of the barn. In one corner there was a drafting desk with all kinds of drawings of machines on it. There were some framed drawings on the walls above the desk that I recognized almost immediately as copies of da Vinci. I saw the sketches for the water-lifting machines and the Vitruvian man in the circle representing the ideal proportions of a body. Jamie was a thinker, there was no doubt. I realized at that moment that, even though he could be social when he needed to be, he was a little bit of a loner, too . . . like me.

I walked toward the opposite end of the barn, and in the process, tripped over my own damn feet. I stumbled but quickly regained my balance. I looked back and caught Jamie smiling. “Oh, wipe that smile off your face. I’m clumsy, okay?”

“You’re adorable,” he said.

In the center of the opposite wall was the bed. I walked toward it and felt Jamie following me. The lights behind me went off one by one until there was just one tiny desk lamp on, filling the space with a faint warmth like a glowing ember in the darkest night. We shuffled around for a few minutes and then stood on opposite sides of the bed. He untucked his shirt, I took off my coat, and we both kicked off our shoes.

“It’s beautiful in here.”

He came toward me without hesitation and lifted my dress from the bottom. I raised my arms to accommodate him. He never took his eyes off me as he threw the dress onto the chair next to him. “It is now,” he said.

I stood in my panties and bra and didn’t feel a modicum of shyness. I unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off of his shoulders, letting my hands linger there. His hair had fallen down against the sides of his face. I pushed it back, slowly and sensually. He kissed me while he unbuttoned his jeans, only breaking the kiss to step out of them.

“Do you feel okay?” I asked.

“Yes. Let’s rest for a bit, though.” He pulled the duvet back and slid in wearing only his boxers. “Get in here, Katy,” he said with a lazy smile. Who would say no to this man? I glanced at the old-fashioned clock on the nightstand before slipping in beside him. It was three thirty a.m. We were lying on our sides, facing each other, but our bodies were flush. I fit perfectly into the space of his chest. We dovetailed our legs, and then I felt him kiss the top of my head.

“We can stay like this all day. We have nowhere to be but here. Sleep, angel.” And just like that, I was out.

It was morning twilight when I woke. There was a glow coming through the window shades. Our bodies started moving at the same time—he was waking up, too. We were hyperaware of each other’s presence, of skin against skin, of heat radiating from our bodies. We started moving more intentionally. He rolled me over until we were spooning. He kissed my neck and behind my ear and pressed himself forward, and I felt him hard against me. I moaned so faintly, I thought only I could hear, but he responded to it by pushing against me again, harder and more urgent. He unhooked my bra and it disappeared.

He rolled on top of me and trailed light, slow kisses over my breasts and down to my stomach and down further. I fixated on the muscles in his arms as he held himself above me effortlessly. I felt him kick off his boxers; he was very good at that. He was also very good at making me crazy. He was kissing me through my panties, right there in that perfect spot. I felt myself moving toward him, bucking slightly and encouraging him to continue teasing. He rolled my panties down and those disappeared into the galaxy as well. There were hands and lips and teeth and tongues everywhere, but it was slow. He stopped and hovered over me, gazing into my eyes, but he didn’t say anything.

“Do you like me, Jamie?”

“Yes. A lot.”

“What blood type are you?”

“O positive.” He shook his head and laughed.

“Do you have a savings account?”

“Yes.”

“And health insurance?”

“Uh-huh,” he murmured as he kissed his way down my body and back up again.