She nodded and watched him go.

Nadia added, “Good day, Mr. Barrett.”

He glanced back once, then headed outside. The door shut and Nadia tightened the belt of her robe before turning back. Her hair hung down and her face was clean of makeup. Jude had never noticed how pretty Nadia was before. She assumed because she didn’t tend to notice such niceties about her enemies. “You should go upstairs, Judith, and don’t come down until you’re dressed and ready for the day. I suspect today will be a long one.” She passed her and went back down the hall from where she came.

Jude remained, her heart now beating wildly in her chest. Then she ran as fast as she could up the stairs and into her room. She shut the door quietly behind her and leaned against it until she caught her breath. Seeing the pallet they had made, the place where they made love, and commitments of forever, made her smile so big that she flopped down on it and hugged the pillow to her chest. When she took a deep breath she caught the scent of her forever still lingering. She curled around the pillow and closed her eyes, wanting to live in this bliss until she could be with her Hazel again.

JUDE SAT AT the other end of the table from her stepfather. Her mother flanked his side, but her place had been sequestered four seats down. This had been where she and her brother had always been relegated, but since he died, she sat down there alone. Some mornings Isla sat by her. This morning Isla wasn’t here. She hadn’t returned from her night out.

After her glass was filled with orange juice, she picked it up and moved her entire place setting down the table until she was across from her mother and next to her stepfather who sat at the head of the table. “What are you doing?” he asked before eating his toast.

“I don’t want to sit alone.” She eyed the juice wondering if that’s how they were drugging her.

Her mother put her coffee cup down and smiled at her daughter. “How was your night, Judith? I heard the Stevens and Barrett boys took you and Isla out. That must have been a nice change.”

“It was. About Taylor,” Jude started.

Her stepfather put his tablet down, and said, “Who’s Taylor?”

Jude tried to hide her nerves by eating and reached for her fork. “Taylor Barrett.”

“Oh,” he replied.

Her mother said, “He seemed nice at the Stevens’s dinner.” She lowered her voice as if Taylor would hear her. “So sad about his illness.”

The forked strawberry touching Jude’s lips was lowered as she raised her eyes to her mother. “What do you mean?”

Her stepfather was agitated. “Can you save the gossip for when I’m gone?” He set his fork down and finished his coffee as her mother watched him and Jude stared at her mother. He stood and walked away from the table. As soon as he was gone from the dining room, Jude, feeling sick to her stomach, asked, “What do you mean sad about his illness? What illness?”

Her mother picked up her coffee cup again and signaled for Nadia, who came and refilled it. Nadia’s eyes were on Jude, the exchange between them one of caution. Surely Jude was misreading her, but she didn’t care about that right then. “Mother?”

“Yes, Judith. Let me get my coffee. The Barrett boy—”

“Stop calling him that. His name is Taylor.”

“What has gotten into you today? She set her cup down and looked exasperated. He has Parkinson’s.”

“What? Parkinson’s? No.” She shook her head. “I thought you had to be older…” She knew nothing of Parkinson’s disease other than the obvious—tremors. She had never seen him tremor.

“Yes. I’m pretty sure that’s what his parents told us at dinner. He was in and out of hospitals for a few months until they gained an accurate diagnosis.” She lowered her voice again as if they were conspiratorial sisters. “That’s when his fiancée cheated on him with his friend.” She made a face of distaste. “Such a scandal. I almost wish we would have known them then. It would have made tea time much more interesting.”

Jude sat there, staring at her, staring through her.

“Are you not feeling well, darling?”

Jude snapped her gaze down. Though she was hesitant to drink anything she had not served herself, she drank her juice to coat her drying throat, Hazel’s words echoing in her head. “I promise to love you always. I promise to protect you all of my days, my entire life.” Then her words. “Your lifeline is too short.”

“I had no idea. How is he? What did his parents say?”

“You tell me. How was he last night?”

Blissful. Romantic. Handsome. Sexual. Marry me? She pushed her plate away. “He was happy.”

Her mother smiled. “Well, that’s nice. Maybe it doesn’t bother him anymore.”

Jude became impatient and stood up. “I don’t think Parkinson’s works like that, Mother.”

“His mother, Betsy, asked me to co-chair a fundraiser for research in June. I think I’ll accept. I’ve been bored with the usual charities.”

Holding back what she really wanted to say, Jude said, “Charities aren’t for entertainment. They’re important in raising awareness and funds. But since you’re bored and all…”

“Jude?” her mother called after her.

Jude stopped under the arched doorway, her hands on the molding. She turned around and asked, “What?”

With her back to Jude, she asked, “What is that ring you’re wearing?”

There was nothing believable Jude could say, so she didn’t say anything at all. Just as she turned to leave, her mother added, “I married your father for love.”

Turning back around, Jude asked the question she had always wondered, “Why did you marry Brewster?”

“For security.” Her mother turned to meet her only daughter’s eyes and asked, “What will you marry for?”

Jude paused to think, but decided it wasn’t anything she wanted to share. Her heart, soul, and mind knew what she would marry for. She left, leaving her mother and that question in the bright room at the back of the house. As she walked up the stairs, Roman said, “Good morning, Hummingbird.”

“It is morning. As for good…”

“You doing okay?” When she looked down at him, he was smiling—warm and welcoming, a gladiator with the heart of the sun inside.

For him, Jude returned a smile, though it was small. She sighed, “I don’t know anymore.”

“You’re stronger than you realize.” He nodded.

Wanting to believe him, she said, “Sometimes I forget.”

“Remember who you are on the inside. You’re strong and fast. Smart and brave. Never forget who you are.”

When Ryan died, Roman had been there for her when her family had mentally checked out. When they returned to their day-to-day, like he had never existed, they blamed her, her stepfather leading the charge…

“If you hadn’t convinced him to go to California, he wouldn’t have been going to the luggage store.”

“You preyed on his kindness by convincing him of your lies. He could have gone to college here in the city. But no, you were always trying to get his attention and when he believed you, you wrote his death sentence.”

Her friend, her only friend other than Hazel, touched her shoulder. Her eyes flicked up to his and he said, “Be brave, Hummingbird.”

She nodded, taking his words to heart. In her room, she went to the back of her closet, dug into a pair of Prada heels, and pulled out Hazel’s phone number. She wanted to talk to him, to see him, to hold him, to cry for him, to marry him. But she wouldn’t call him. It would show on the bill. And she had to protect him from them, from her parents. She had to protect him for herself.

She tucked the number into her pocket, slipped on a pair of flats, and grabbed a light sweater, then waited on the edge of her bed for eleven o’clock. At ten fifty-eight she ran downstairs and out the front door. She had no time to waste, so she hailed a cab and went to Hazel’s apartment. She twisted the ring around her finger the whole ride over. Everything she felt for him hung in the balance of her heart, teetering between love and devastation. She needed to know how he was. She needed to see him, to touch him, to love him.