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“Yes, that’s one of mine, too. Of course, you were unconscious for my favorite part.” “That’s right,” I remembered. “I was talking that night, too.” “Yes,” he agreed. My face got hot as I wondered again what I might have said while sleeping in Jacob’s arms. I couldn’t remember what I’d dreamed about, or if I’d dreamed at all, so that was no help. “What did I say last night?” I whispered more quietly than before. He shrugged instead of answering, and I winced. “That bad?” “Nothing too horrible,” he sighed. “Please tell me.” “Mostly you said my name, the same as usual.” “That’s not bad,” I agreed cautiously. “Near the end, though, you started mumbling some nonsense about ‘Jacob, my Jacob.’” I could hear the pain, even in the whisper. “Your Jacob enjoyedthat quite a lot.” I stretched my neck up, straining to reach my lips to the edge of his jaw. I couldn’t see into his eyes. He was staring up at the ceiling of the tent. “Sorry,” I murmured. “That’s just the way I differentiate.” “Differentiate?” “Between Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Between the Jacob I like and the one who annoys the hell out of me,” I explained. “That makes sense.” He sounded slightly mollified. “Tell me another favorite night.” “Flying home from Italy.” He frowned. “Is that not one of yours?” I wondered. “No, itis one of mine, actually, but I’m surprised it’s on your list. Weren’t you under the ludicrous impression I was just acting from a guilty conscience, and I was going to bolt as soon as the plane doors opened?” “Yes.” I smiled. “But, still, you were there.”