“We’ll order his favorite today.” Maricarmen sipped her coffee. “You can help me cook a special birthday lunch. Don’t tell Ash, but Javi is coming, and Ale too.”
“He’ll be so happy.”
“That’s the whole point.” She twirled a ring on her index finger. “When he came here after your breakup, I told him you were his reason to sink.”
His reason for sinking? Was that what Maricarmen thought of us—that I was bad for Ash? I’d had enough of his mother blaming me for their fractured relationship. “I really hope not,” I said, lowering my gaze to the coffee in my cup. “I’d rather be his—”
“Joy,” Maricarmen said softly. “Peace. His safe haven. His reason to live, like he said. I didn’t mean it badly. I just know he’d do anything for you, and now I see why.”
She must have read the question in my eyes, because she went on, “It’s in how you talk about him. In how you look at each other. I’ve seen many versions of my grandson—the angry one, the grieving one, the competitive one. But since his father’s death, I hadn’t seen the one I wanted to see. Yesterday, I finally did.” She covered my hand with hers. “He’s happy. You make him happy, Kaia. The happy version of Asher exists because of you. No matter how much all of us tried, nothing worked until you forgave him.”
Relief loosened the tightness in my chest. “So, you don’t think I’m bad for him—or that we’re bad for each other?”
Maricarmen rose from her chair, the fabric of her dress rustling as she circled the table. “Cuánto daño te han hecho, mi niña,” she whispered,pulling me into a hug.How much they’ve hurt you, my little girl. “No, I don’t think that. Whoever told you so is wrong. Finish breakfast, and let’s walk.”
She kissed the top of my head and slipped into the kitchen. As soon as I finished my coffee and croissant, she reappeared in the courtyard. “Leave the dishes. We’ll tidy later. No time to waste.”
I followed her onto the street. We strolled the narrow cobbled sidewalk, passing rows of white houses. A tall older man in a cap mowed a lawn, whistling a cheerful tune, and my heart jolted.
He looked like Dawson—which was absurd, about as likely as running into my father here in Spain.
The man rounded the house and vanished. A laugh slipped from me.
“Kaia? What’s wrong?” Maricarmen called from a few steps ahead.
I swallowed and caught up. “Nothing. I just… thought I saw someone I know.”
She arched a brow, clutching the strap of her purse. “Someone you know? Who?”
“Dawson. Odd, right?”
She slid her slender fingers around my forearm and nodded toward the end of the street. “The bakery’s here. Let’s order the cake for Ash.”
Inside, she chatted with the smiling woman behind the counter, but something about her felt off. For someone so composed, she seemed flustered, fingers drifting to the golden pendant at her throat every few seconds. Her tanned cheeks even carried a faint blush.
Later, she led me to the promenade along Valdelagrana beach. The ocean stretched out, sparkling under the midday sun. Surfers rode the gusts of wind farther down the shore.
Maricarmen slowed and gripped the railing. “You were right,” she said.
I stepped beside her. “About what?”
“The man you saw. It was Dawson.”
I could only stare. “But he was…” Supposed to be in the States. Supposed to be with Forward Racing. None of it left my mouth. Hugging myself, I looked at her. She chuckled softly.
“Busted. I know. I’m not proud.”
“Wait,” I whispered. “Are you two…?”
She sighed, tapping her nails on the railing. “When Dawson came here with Ash all those years ago, we became friends. I taught him Spanish. We connected over our common worry—Ash—and our shared pasts. He lost his wife; I lost my husband. Evenings often ended with us talking about life and loss. Later, he moved back to the States, but we stayed in touch.”
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “And you fell in love?”
“Neither of us wanted to call it that.” A smile softened her face. “But things grew into something more. He came last year and asked me to give him a chance. I said not yet. Ash was still angry and broken. Neither of us wanted to add to his pain. But we’re getting older. Life is like a book—you turn the pages, eager to see what’s next, until suddenly there are only a handful left. Then you slow down, savor every word. That’s where Dawson and I are. I want to enjoy those last pages with him.” Her dark eyes met mine. “But I need to talk to Ash first. I don’t want him to think we betrayed him.”
“He won’t think that. He loves you, and he wants you to be happy.”
She pulled me into a warm hug. “I know. But if you can, it’s always better to make the right choice. Am I right?”
