Page 45 of Sweet Redemption

“Yeah. Me too. Gracie’s nanny is helping with Bodhi right now.”

Bodhi.

His son.

I’ve known this man my entire life, in some ways better than I’ve known myself, and I’ve never had a conversation with him about his son.

What’s worse is I’m not sure I can.

Slowly exhaling, I catch those beautiful blue eyes and ignore my racing heart. I fight the urge to run. To hide. To fall ten million steps backward into the dark place I was in before. Instead, I force my feet to stay still and ignore the nausea rising in my stomach and the tears threatening. “How is he doing?” I fist my hands in my pockets and picture the gorgeous little boy with his mother’s eyes and his father’s smile. “With the move, I mean. He’s a little guy, so is it throwing him off? Or are your mom and dad spoiling him so rotten that he doesn’t care?”

There. I did it.

So why does it hurt so badly?

And why does Hendrix look like he’s about sixty seconds from wrapping me in his arms?

“Serena.” He reaches for me, but—oh, hell no. I can’t. Not now, with my body back on the verge of fight-or-flight mode, where it seems to live when he’s around. “Right. Sorry.” He drops his hand, and his easy smile fades. Damn it. “He’s good. Everyone is spoiling him rotten.”

We stand there, staring at each other for a long minute.

Neither of us speaking until I’m not sure we can.

“Good,” I finally whisper. “That’s good, Superman.”

“Serena . . .”

“I’ve got to go, Hen.” I don’t bother waiting for a response. I can’t. Not unless I want him to see the tears fall, and I promised myself a long time ago, he would never get that from me.

Not again.

SERENA

Have you written any positive affirmations lately?

I have.

Care to share?

May the bridges I’ve burned light the way . . .

Not exactly what I meant, but that’ll do.

—Serena’s conversation with her therapist

Serena

I have a favor to ask.

Rafe

Animal, vegetable or mineral?

Serena

Marital.

Rafe