He grunts, and then Daisy and Holly grab their mom’s luggage, and the three of them head for the garage. Phantom stays behind with Jax and me.
“You cool?” he asks.
“Completely,” I say.
And it’s true. After my son lost his dad, I couldn’t imagine not being supportive of a woman who’s doing everything to get herself together. She might never havefull custody of the girls again, but she’s been talking about a new career, a new direction for her life. Maybe she’s tired. Maybe she just needs a break from being a full-time single mother. I’m so grateful to be able to carry some of that load.
Phantom leans down and kisses me. “Love you. Be ready to hit the road when we’re back.”
“I love you,” I tell him. “We will be.”
Jax turns and heads upstairs. “Mom, can Ryan sleep over this weekend?”
“Did you ask Phantom if it’s okay?”
“Yeah, he said it’s fine.”
“I’ll text Tera and ask.”
He bounds upstairs, leaving me alone. I walk into the kitchen and stare out over the back of the property. The afternoon sun glitters on the water in the channel, and the pool, completely clean, sterilized, and back in use, sparkles in the sunlight.
I rub my thumb along the tattoo on my ring finger.
Grief is a funny thing. How long is long enough to hold on to feelings of sadness?
After we checkin to the hotel, we get the kids settled in their rooms, and Phantom and I shower and change for dinner. Phantom makes calls on the balcony of our room while I get ready, so once I’m done, we trade places.
I stand outside and peer out over the beach, watching the sunset. I feel so many things tonight. I’vebeen thinking about Michael a lot lately. Not in a sad way. I don’t miss him—not in the ways I used to.
I wonder if he can see us. If he knows how happy I am. How strong and funny, smart and talented Jax is. If he knows that he’ll always be Jax’s father and my first husband.
“Babe.” I feel Phantom come up behind me and wrap his arms around my waist. “You ready?”
I haven’t told Phantom that today is the nine-year anniversary of Michael passing away. He has enough to deal with getting Shayla off to rehab, keeping the kids calm. I’m okay; I really am. But I’ve realized over the past two and a half months that the exhaustion I was feeling might have been, at least in part, because I’m carrying so many memories. Ghosts feel scary and shapeless until you try to hold one in your heart. Then they just become heavy. And so, so sad.
I turn to Phantom, but I must swipe at a few tears that wet my cheeks.
“Hey.” Phantom pulls me close. He holds me against his chest and doesn’t say anything. I just breathe in the scent of him, feel the heat of him, the strength of him. He’s become my safe and happy place. With him, a grunt can mean everything from fuck off to great job. A single look can say everything. But when it matters, when I need him to, he knows just what to say. “This is all a lot. Thank you for going through this with me.”
I hug him hard, then reach up and stroke his beard. I don’t say anything either. I know that he knows what’s in my heart. What was there is moving, shifting, getting smaller to take up less space. The love I feel forPhantom and the girls is growing to fill the space with something lighter, something vibrant and alive.
I put on a big smile. “Let’s get the kids.”
Mom and the kids are waiting for us in the lobby of the hotel. The girls are dressed in cute sweaters and jeans, and Daisy’s wearing new pink high-tops that Jax helped her decorate. Daisy loops an arm through mine and practically skips out onto the terrace. Mom walks with Jax, and Phantom has his arm around Holly’s shoulders.
Once we’re seated, the server takes our drink orders and hands out menus. “I don’t know if they told you when you made the reservation,” the server says, “but there is a small wedding in the hotel tonight. Just sixty people in one of our smaller ballrooms, but you might be able to hear some music if you’re still out here in about an hour.”
“What kind of music?” Daisy asks, and Holly shoots her a look. “I just want to know. I mean, if it’s good…”
Phantom chuckles and reaches for my knee under the table. I slide a hand down to cover his and stroke the tops of his knuckles while I skim the menu. We order our meals, and the mood is quiet. Holly and Daisy don’t seem to have the energy to bicker, and Jax seems to know no one’s really in the mood to talk.
Mom keeps up a constant flow of conversation, which I actually appreciate because it’s different, not the usual school and work drama. When the kids want to order dessert, Mom pipes up, “Dinner’s on me.” She smiles at Phantom and me. “If it’s okay with your parents, everyone’s ordering dessert.”
I give Mom a look, wondering why she’s doing all this. Is she just trying to make up for the lost years we had when Jax was tiny and I couldn’t do things like dinners or trips? I don’t know if she knows the date today. I know Jax doesn’t know. That’s one thing I didn’t want to burden him with as a child. We don’t celebrate his dad’s heavenly birthday or the day he passed away. I do that quietly, by myself. It just seemed cruel to, twice a year, make a child be reminded of what he’ll never have from a man he doesn’t remember.
It’s not like I hid the dates from him, but he’s never asked. Someday when he’s older, I will ask if he wants to know. If he does, it’ll be his choice how to celebrate or whether to observe the dates at all. But I’m sure Mom knows. Just like I’ll never forget her wedding anniversary with my dad, the story of how they met.
While we eat dessert, music does travel from the hotel ballroom out onto the terrace. It’s typical wedding-reception music, intended to get people up and dancing. It seems to do the trick for Mom. As soon as she finishes her last spoonful of crème brûlée, she pushes back her chair and heads for the little gate that separates the dining area from the beach.
