Somewhere over the Atlantic, her fears about meeting the Lawsons came crawling back, whispering worst-case scenarios she couldn’t shut off. She tossed and turned, the surprisingly comfortable sofa bed doing little to quiet her thoughts.
Eventually she surrendered, snapped on the reading light, and reached for the paperback she’d snagged after supper. Normally, when sleep refused to come, she’d put on a movie. One ofhis, of course. But she couldn’t exactly do that now. Not when the man himself was sitting a few meters away, breathing the same air.
Did the cockpit share the same air as the rest of the aircraft?
Because that’s where he was now — flying the freaking thing.
Was there no end to the man’s accomplishments?
He’d gone straight there after their evening meal, all easy confidence and quiet authority, wishing them a peaceful sleep.
Peaceful.Pfft.
There wasnothingpeaceful about that man.
And how she’d survived two meals and an hour-long refueling stopover in his company was a small miracle. It had felt as though his eyes were on her the whole time. As if he were reading every flicker of expression she tried to hide.
Maybe he thought her funny? Or odd? Or both?
But dammit, he was so … soJK.
All charm and quiet confidence wrapped up in one infuriatingly gorgeous package.
Much better, Suze. Focus on the movie star. It’s safer to obsess about him than to dwell on meeting your daughter’s biological family.
And just like that, the gnawing trepidation that had taken hold since Essie announced her plan to visit Texas and get to know the Lawsons.
Which left Suzette Bosch, the woman who had raised Esther from the age of ten, standing on the sidelines.
An outsider.
She’d talked to them once. Via a video call. Branna and Jonathan seemed pleasant enough, warm even, and grateful for her role in Essie’s life. But meeting them face-to-face? That was an entirely different story.
Now Esther was settling in Texas with Max and little Sophie, close enough to see her family regularly.
And Suzette? She would return to South Africa. Alone.
It wouldn’t take long, would it?
For her daughter to forget the woman who had held her through countless nightmares, helped with her homework, cheered her on through medical school, and comforted her when her marriage fell apart.
The thought pressed like a stone against Suzette’s chest.
Jealousy wasn’t her nature — or so she’d always believed — but lately, that nasty green devil had been perched on her shoulder, whispering, taunting.
You’re not good enough.
For a woman who’d grown up unwanted, shuffled from family member to family member before landing in the children’s home, belonging had always felt conditional, something that could be taken away.
And now she faced it again — that familiar ache of being left behind.
Only this time, it was by the woman who called her Mom.
*
Justin looked up when the cockpit door opened. Melinda, the flight attendant, stepped in, her expression carefully neutral.
“Mrs. Bosch is up,” she said quietly. “She looks upset.”
