“Maybe the service would be faster if I knew there was a generous tip coming.”
The three of us eat, talk, laugh like old times. Except it isn’t. There’s a quiet urgency to every moment now. Every word feels borrowed.
As I sit with them, I feel the familiar ache of helplessness. I’d give anything to take this cancer from Bas. Anything.
And still, beneath that ache, Olivia lingers in my thoughts. If I’d met her two years ago, she might be here or I’d already be on a plane to see her. Now, I hesitate. I don’t want to leave Bas—not for a day, not when I don’t know how many days we have left.
13
OLIVIA
“No, not the chartreuse. Slate is my first choice, aubergine second.” My fingers glide across a square patch of suede. God, I love this part of my job. Color swatches, paint chips, and textures are my drug of choice. I could spend hours immersed in them.
On the other end of the line, Alfonso, one of my most dependable furniture suppliers, promises to do what he can.
“Al, I need you to come through for me. It’s a big order.” My tone softens as I pace. “I really need this.”
Footsteps pound up the stairs. I’m holed up in my office and don’t have a line of sight to the hallway or landing. Who the hell is in my house?
My spine stiffens.
“Al,” I whisper, “someone’s in my house.”
My grip on the phone tightens like a lifeline as I try to make as little noise as possible. “If I scream, hang up and call nine-one-one.”
I tiptoe toward my open office door to get a better view of the hallway, heart thudding in my ears. A head of familiar dark blond hair crests the landing, followed by Drew’s handsomeface. A strangled laugh escapes me. Relief crashes over my shoulders.
“Mom?” He eyes me bent awkwardly around the doorframe.
“It’s Drew.” I sigh, my silliness dissipating. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Al expels a chuckle of relief, says goodbye, and ends the call.
My son hauls a giant suitcase and his hockey gear onto the landing. He’s done with school and came home for the summer a few weeks ago.
“Hey, honey.” I quirk a brow. “What’s with all the bags?”
Dropping everything with a thud, he crosses the hall and hugs me. “I’m staying here for the summer. That cool?”
“What? Of course.” I pull back. “But I thought you’d stick to the schedule, staying with your dad when Paige is there, then with me.”
He shrugs and lugs his bags into his room, and I follow, waiting patiently for more of an explanation.
Drew sits heavily on the bed, running a hand through his already-tousled hair. “This place is closer to work.”
“Your dad’s is three streets from here.” I cross my arms. “My place or his, there is no difference in distance to the site. Try again.”
Every summer during high school, Drew has worked for his Uncle John, Pete’s brother, who owns a construction company. It’s good money, plus he gets a tan and a daily workout. This will be his last summer at the site before he finds a position in a law firm and focuses on his career.
The pause is long, then his eyes narrow and lips purse as he looks away. “If it’s a problem, I’ll stay with Ken.”
“Never. This is your home. Always. But something’s up. Did something happen with your dad?”
If he won’t tell me, I’ll have to ask Pete—not that I’m eager to. Lately, I’ve been avoiding him as much as possible. He’s beenfinding every excuse to reach out—texting, calling, even emailing my work. Using the kids as a pretense.
Drew flops back onto his bed and shuts his eyes. “Let’s just say he knows I’m here and he’s fine with it.”
That’s all he’s giving me? I know my son; he’s chill to a fault. If he’s changing the plan, something rattled him, and Pete’s at the center of it.
