But I couldn't lie to myself and say his appearance didn't affect me.
Every time I saw him there, watching from a distance, my heart would beat a little faster. Every time he handed mesomething and his fingers touched mine, I'd remember things from long ago. Back when we were young, still in love, when I thought that was forever.
Tommy called me from his room. I went over. He lay in bed, picture book open on top of his blanket, pointing at a dolphin. "Mommy, look, mommy dolphin and baby dolphin."
"Yeah, I see."
"Mommy dolphin stays with baby dolphin forever, right?"
"Right."
"Will you stay with me forever?"
"Yes." I touched his head. His hair was soft, freshly washed, and still smelled like shampoo. "Mommy will always stay with you."
Satisfied, he turned to the next page.
I sat on the edge of his bed, watching his serious profile as he read. The bedside lamp cast a soft glow on his little face, his long lashes throwing tiny shadows under his eyes. His lashes were like his father's. When he smiled, his eyes curved—also like his father's.
I didn't know what to do next. But I knew that no matter what I chose, I wouldn't let Tommy get hurt again. That was something I'd sworn to myself six years ago. I'd never forgotten.
Chapter Fourteen
Paul
Mark came out of that building while I stood under the banyan tree across the street.
He carried an insulated bag. He'd had two when he arrived; now one was empty. He stopped at the door, looked up at that third-floor window for a while, then turned toward the alley. I waited until his figure disappeared completely at the mouth of the alley before stepping out from behind the tree. He'd been inside for over two hours. It was past six when he arrived, nearly nine now.
I got on my bike and rode to the beach. Not many people on the beach after nine. A few couples sitting on distant rocks, a homeless guy sleeping on a bench under newspapers. I found an empty spot and sat down.
I cracked open the beer I'd just bought and took a long pull. My head was full of what I'd just seen. Mark holding her hand—I couldn't see it clearly from that angle, the doorframe blocking half the view, but I knew he was holding it. She didn't pull away.
I took another swig. Jealousy lodged in my chest. I wanted to storm up there, shove him aside, tell him she was my woman,my kid. But she didn't pull her hand back. That was her choice. Six years ago, I did nothing and watched her leave. Now she had someone else. Who could I blame but myself?
Marcus said I came to play the savior, that I was hurting her all over again. He was right. I was a fool to think money could fix everything. So I stopped spouting that bullshit. I'd just watch from a distance. Be there when she needed me.
I thought that would be enough, until today when I saw Mark. I finished the second beer, crushed it, and tossed it with the first. Picked up my phone. Put it down. Finally dialed Marcus.
"Paul?" He answered fast, surprise in his voice. "What made you call? Something happened?"
I was quiet for a moment. "Marcus, if a guy goes to a woman's place every week, stays two or three hours—what does that mean?"
Marcus paused on the other end. "What does what mean? Spell it out for me."
"There's this guy who goes to Casey's at a set time every week. Stays two to three hours. Today I saw him holding her hand."
Marcus went quiet for a few seconds. "You're saying someone's courting her?"
"I don't know. I just saw it."
"How'd she react?"
"Didn't pull away. Just let him hold it."
Marcus sighed. "Paul, you gotta level with me. What's your situation? You never told me someone was showing up at her place."
"I hadn't seen it before. Saw it today."
