I looked down at the mango crepe in my arms, then shoved it back at him like I was tossing garbage. The sudden movement made the box wobble in his hands, the pale blue ribbon coming undone.
"You think I need your charity?" I stepped forward, forcing him to meet my gaze. "Let me tell you something, Paul. Yes, it's been hard. But I've never felt pathetic. I've raised my son with my own two hands. I don't need your oceanfront mansion, and I sure as hell don't need you looking at me like I'm some poor soul to be pitied."
He froze, his mouth opening to explain. "Casey, that's not what I meant. I just wanted to make up for—"
"Your 'making up' is an insult." I cut him off sharply. "And one more thing, the most important thing..."
I pointed at Tommy, who stood beside me, looking confused. My words came out sharp and deliberate. "Never show up in front of my son again. His life is simple right now. Happy. He doesn't need some stranger barging in and destroying his peace."
I turned without another glance, taking Tommy's hand and walking away.
"Casey!" He called my name from behind, but I didn't turn back.
I took Tommy to the ice cream shop. He was thrilled, licking his green coconut ice cream and looking up at me. "Mommy, was that man fighting with you? He looked really sad."
I touched his head, fighting back the burning in my eyes, and forced a smile. "No, sweetie. He was just lost and asking for directions. Eat up before it melts."
I played the perfect, strong mother. I built LEGOs with him, read him bedtime stories, until his breathing evened out and he drifted into sweet dreams. I turned off his nightlight and tiptoed out, closing the door softly behind me.
The second I turned around, every pretense shattered. I leaned against the cold living room door, my body sliding down like all the support had been yanked out from under me, until I was sitting on the floor.
In the darkness, the sound of wind rustling the curtains felt unbearably lonely. I buried my head in my knees. Tears poured out without warning.
It wasn't that I didn't want a better life. Who wouldn't want to skip waiting for the bus in the rain? Who wouldn't want their kid to grow up with the best of everything?
But now he'd come back with his guilt and his money, still playing the savior. In his mind, I'd always be the weak one who needed rescuing, who needed pity.
I lifted my head and wiped the tears from my face, staring out at the blurred lights in the distance.
Paul, you think money can buy back six missing years? You think a mansion can buy my forgiveness?
I swore to myself I would never accept his help. I'd prove to him that without his high-and-mighty charity, I could still make it on this island. I could still live with dignity, with pride.
I didn't need redemption. I'd already saved myself on that rainy night six years ago.
Chapter Twelve
Paul
I stood at Casey's door, the mango crepe box heavy in my arms—not from its weight, but from how decisively it had just been shoved back at me. The ocean breeze hit my face, salty and damp, but I felt frozen solid, like some stone statue baking under the tropical sun.
I didn't get it. In Boston, I'd never met a negotiation I couldn't close. Logic, leverage, interests. Master those three, and you could land any deal.
I stared at Casey's rundown apartment, at the peeling paint on that little pinwheel in her window, and all I could think was: I could give her top-of-the-line double-pane soundproof glass. I could make sure that roof never leaked again. I could get Tommy into the best private schools in the world instead of that shabby daycare with the rainbow-painted gate.
I was trying to help her. I'd come with the deepest regret and the most generous compensation, so why did she look at me like I was some creep who'd crawled out from under a rock? That look—cold, guarded, even a hint of... disgust.
I got back in the car. The luxury sedan's soundproofing instantly cut off the cicadas and wind, the AC pumping hard, but I felt like I was suffocating. I'd never felt this custom Rolls-Royce so heavy, so pointless. Parked on this street full of lived-in life, it looked like some arrogant aristocrat who'd crashed a dive bar, thinking it was classy, when really it was just awkward.
My hands shook as I dialed Marcus. He was my closest friend, one of the few people who'd shoot straight with me.
"Marcus, she turned me down. No, she threw me out." I took a breath, the defeat thick in my voice. "I went to see Casey. I offered to bring her back to Boston or buy her an ocean-view house here. Get Tommy the best doctors, the best teachers. I wanted to give her a better life, make up for the last six years. But she didn't even let me finish. She shoved everything back at me and said I hadn't changed at all. Marcus, what did I do wrong?"
Long silence on the other end. I could practically see Marcus rubbing his temples. Finally, he let out a long sigh.
"Paul, you know what your biggest problem is?"
"What?" I gripped the steering wheel harder.
