Now, I’m months away from that.
Before Cassandra left the room, Matthew called out to her, “Sister?”
Cassandra stopped at thedoor and faced him. “Yes?”
He pulled a folded paper from his pocket and held it out to her. “Would you give this to her?”
She gave him a sad smile and took the letter. “I always do.”
***
Saturdays hurt the most.
During Jasmine’s time in Spain, the haunting echo of Saturday mornings stung, but nothing like this. Somewhere along the line, the longing for the Cooper family was replaced by the all-consuming need for Matthew alone.
She missed his smile, how his mouth fit over hers, the feel of his hair through her fingers, and how their bodies fit together perfectly.
As if they were made for each other.
Most of all, she missed the way he made her laugh.
She should be at the Reeves’ residence right now, surrounded byherfamily. Instead, she sat on the windowsill of her mother’s sitting room, poking a needle and thread through a silk handkerchief.
She timed her stitches to the ticking of the clock.One-two, one-two,in a loop that seemed to go on for an eternity. She finished with a petal of a red flower and moved on to the next. Flowers of varying colors and skill levels littered the handkerchief—one for every day they were apart.
All fourteen of them.
With each stitch she cursed her father, who insisted on his rules. Even though Matthew was fixing the issue with Lord Rothwell, it still wasn’t done. Having no other choice, Jasmine surrendered to her restrictions, but she refused to be separated from Cassandra. They had been friends since the cradle. The fight for Cassandra’s company was hard-won, and Father only relented because Jasmine threatened to elope with Matthew.
An option she mulled over hourly.
Finished with the flower, she set down her work and leaned on the window. The sun-heated glass warmed her skin, but not her heart. When she closed her eyes, she imagined Matthew’s arms around her.
A soft knock on the doorframe pulled her from fantasy. Cassandra entered the room wearing a cornflower-blue dress and leather walking shoes. Instead of her velvet needlework bag, Cassandra held a straw bonnet in one hand and a cream parasol in the other.
“I could use a walk. Why don’t we stroll through the gardens?”
Jasmine raised a brow. “Should you be on your feet?”
“Not you too.” Cassandra huffed. “I cannot be cooped up for another moment. I need to stretch my legs and breathe fresh air.” She gave Jasmine a gentle smile. “And I think you do too.”
Trusting Cassandra to set her own limits, Jasmine met her at the door and linked arms with her, as they had since they were girls.
In the back garden, Jasmine squinted under the unfiltered sunlight. Cassandra raised her parasol, shading both of them with a tranquil glow.
They walked in silence, broken by the sounds of their footsteps and the buzzing of insects flitting from bloom to bloom. The flowers surrounding her matched the ones on Matthew’s new handkerchief. Violets, roses, and daisies rested in their beds, tamed and protected by low hedges. Their fragrance lifted and danced in the breeze, mixing with the scent of Cassandra’s lavender soap.
In the middle of the garden, they stopped by a stone fountain. Water trickled from the top of a tower into a deep basin. Sitting on the edge of the fountain, Cassandra set her parasol to the side and removed her bonnet. Jasmine did the same. Closing her eyes, she lifted her face and soaked up the sun like a cat.
“How is Matthew?” Jasmine asked.
“He’s in the same state you are.” Cassandra pulled a folded piece of paper from her reticule. “He sent this.”
Jasmine opened the letter and read three words, written in simple script:
I miss you.
“I misshim.” She clutched the letter over her heart, trying to push down her anguish. “Please tell me this is close to being over, I don’t think I’ll last another week.”