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“I bet he hated to see you go.”
“I was an adult.” He took a drink of his coffee. “I’m sure he expected me to leave at some point.”
She got out a pan and filled it with water so she could boil the pasta. “I’ve never been to a swamp. Are they truly like how they’re depicted on TV?”
“Have you readWhere the Crawdads Sing?”
She paused from cooking to take a sip of her wine. “No.”
“You might like it. I did.”
“Because...you grew up where that book was set?” she guessed while topping up his coffee.
“No. It’s set in the marshes of North Carolina, but there are marked similarities.”
With the water on the stove set on high heat, she returned to frying the pancetta. “What’s the name of the village where you lived? And how far is it from New Orleans?”
He arched an eyebrow as he looked at her over the rim of his cup. “Do you always ask so many questions?”
“I’m an attorney,” she said. “I’ll be starting my own practice in July. Talking is a tool of the trade, I guess.”
“What kind of attorney?”
“Nothing too glamorous. Wills and trusts.”
“You’re smart to stay out of the criminal system.”
“Why do you say that?”
“It’s a tough world.”
“Too dark for me. Anyway, since we’re both here with nothing except time on our hands, would it be so bad to get to know each other?”
He didn’t reassure her. His eyes narrowed a bit, as if he was taking her measure. “That depends...”
“On...?”
He asked a question instead of answering. “Where’d you meet Remy?”
“At UCLA.”
“You had a class together?”
“No. I tried to avoid the classes he had to take.” She grimaced. “I’d pass out if I had to dissect a cadaver.”
“That sort of thing doesn’t bother him?”
“Not in the least.” As she heard her own answer, she cringed inside. Her fiancé’s level of comfort with corpses didn’t mean anything, did it? Because when she put that fact together with what she’d found in his closet, and those gruesome pictures, a chill ran down her spine.
“So... I know where youdidn’tmeet,” Bo said, essentially pointing out that she hadn’t answered his question.
“Oh, right.” She forced a fresh smile. “I studied in the same place at the library almost every day. One afternoon, he sat down at my table, and we struck up a conversation. Then he returned the next day, and the next, and eventually asked for my number.”
The blanket fell from Bo’s shoulders as he leaned forward, his large hands cradling his cup. “How long have you been together?”
“Three years.”
“You must get along well.”
