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“What picture?” she asked, preoccupied with the game again since he’d already made his move.
“Of the girl.”
Suddenly shifting uncomfortably, she looked up before taking her turn. “What about it?”
“Who is she?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I asked you if you’d ever seen her.”
“But...if you don’t know her, why do you have her picture?”
She began to dig at her cuticles.
“Ismay, what is it?” He’d become an expert at reading body language—a very important skill, especially while locked up. His ability to sense what someone else might be thinking and feeling and, consequently, what that person might do, had probably saved his life on more than one occasion. But it didn’t take an expert to realize she was uneasy. “Something about that picture troubles you. Why?”
Lines of consternation appeared on her normally smooth forehead. “I don’t know what it means.”
“What it means?”he repeated. “How do you know it means anything?”
“Maybe it doesn’t.”
This conversation wasn’t making any sense to him. “Where’d you get it?”
“I found it.”
“Where?” he persisted.
“I don’t... I don’t want to talk about it. And please, don’t mention it to anyone else.”
She’d already asked him for his discretion. Why was she so afraid he might mention it to others? “I won’t,” he said. “And that’s a promise. You believe me, don’t you?”
“I do.” Her lips curved into a reluctant smile. “Thank you. It’s just that... I never should’ve brought it up. I wouldn’t have if I wasn’t so worried that—”
“That...” he prompted.
“That I’d be stupid to ignore it.”
Now he wasreallycurious. They stared at each other for several seconds without speaking. Then he said, “This sounds kind of ominous. I think you should tell me what’s going on.”
Leaning on her elbows, she pretended to puzzle over the game, but he could tell she wasn’t seeing what was right in front of her. She was too deep in her own thoughts.
He guided her hand to the pawn she should move. “This one,” he said, and the desire to continue touching her suddenly welled up. She was incredibly beautiful. That and the fact that he genuinely liked her filled him with desire.
Knowing he had to be extra vigilant, he forced himself to withdraw before it seemed odd that his hand was lingering. He took his turn, then the timer on her phone went off.
“The bread,” she said, sounding relieved by the interruption, and jumped up to get it out of the oven.
Bo didn’t bring up the subject of the picture again. He wanted her to enjoy herself while she was with him, didn’t want to put her on edge. He also knew that if he wanted her to trust him, he had to let her arrive at her own decision.
They enjoyed the cheesy bread with butter and garlic and played several more games of chess. Then they played cards, and when they’d finished the wine, and she was sitting on his couch and he was in his chair, they’d talked about the books he’d recently read, her brother’s divorce, and her hope that Jack could take care of Honey’s house. Until she said, “Remember when I asked you if you could ever really know someone?”
For a second, Bo feared she was talking about him—that she suspected something—and froze. But there was no accusation or anger in her tone. It was just his own guilty conscience that made him feel as if she’d found him out. “I do, and I’d like to know why you were thinking about that,” he asked casually.
“It’s because everyone has secrets. It’s not as if your friend or significant other is going to tell you something he or she knows you won’t approve of. With humans, it’s all about image and...being accepted, even admired.”
Sometimes hiding certain facts was about more than that—it was about being able to make a living and survive outside of prison. “You’re referring to Ashleigh?” he guessed, since they’d been talking so much about Jack and his situation.
Ismay had drunk enough wine that she seemed more relaxed than at any other point in the evening. “And Remy,” she said. “How do you know if you can really trust someone to be who you think they are? It’d suck to get an unpleasant surprise after you’d spent ten or twenty years of your life with them.”
