by Gina Wilkins
“No, it doesn’t,” she said, her voice suddenly thick as she thought about how quickly the past five years had sped past. How much Adam had missed in such a short time.
Adam exhaled then, as if reaching a decision. He took a step back, putting both physical and emotional distance between them when he said, “Anyway, I just want you to know that once Walt has set up the payments, his job for me is done. I don’t know how much longer I’ll hang around here, but wherever I end up, I’ll make sure you always have my contact information. You won’t have to worry about me causing any problems for you or Simon. Maybe you could text me a picture of him occasionally, let me know how he—how you’re both doing—but I won’t interfere in your plans.”
Frowning, she studied his stern profile. “I don’t understand. Are you saying you don’t want to be a part of Simon’s life?”
“I’m saying I don’t want to mess up his life. As I’ve pointed out, you and Simon are doing well. He doesn’t need an absentee dad he hardly knows popping in occasionally to confuse him. I told you I grew up that way, with a father who was little more than a stranger to me. I swore I’d never do that to a kid.”
She didn’t know how to feel about what he was saying. Was he really choosing not to be a father to Simon? To let them leave without making any plans for future visits?
She already knew Adam had issues with permanence, but really? How could he be around Simon and not fall in love with him? Not want to spend even more time with him?
It occurred to her that she should be relieved Adam wasn’t going to try to horn in on Simon’s childhood. That she wouldn’t have to put her son on a plane for court-ordered visitations, or share summers and holidays and other special occasions. Adam wouldn’t be a part of Simon’s life—or hers. Just the way it had always been. And that was fine. Right? She hadn’t really expected a few mind-blowing kisses to turn into a lifetime commitment, had she?
Why was she suddenly so sad? For Adam’s sake. For Simon’s. And for her own.
“It doesn’t have to be like that,” she said quietly. “There are ways to stay in touch, for you to be a father to Simon even if you live apart. It’s not ideal, but I know other long-distance parents who use video chats to stay in touch. Maybe if the technology had been available when you were a boy, you could have communicated more with your own father.”
His mouth twisted. “Phones existed. He knew how to use them. He didn’t bother. But I don’t want to talk about my father. He’s been dead for years, and I’ve been on my own since I was a teenager. I learned to like it that way.”
She’d never known anyone as proficient at sending mixed signals as Adam. He said he wasn’t sorry she was here, but he was already planning for her to leave. He said he trusted her, but he hired a lawyer. He spent time with Simon and seemed to enjoy it very much, but he didn’t want Simon to know who he was. He wanted to take care of his son’s financial needs, but he didn’t want to be a part of the boy’s future.
Maybe he was right to walk away again. If he could keep her this disoriented and conflicted, she could only imagine how confused a five-year-old would be. He was correct about that; Simon deserved more.
The saddest part was that she thought Adam deserved more, too. That he was capable of offering more. He was simply choosing not to.
She pushed back her hair. “We’ll have to tell him someday. He deserves the truth.”
He nodded, still without looking at her. “You’ll know when the time is right. Tell him—tell him I want him to have a great life. Tell him I knew you’d make sure he has everything he needs to be happy, safe and successful. Tell him he’s a lucky kid to have you for his mother, and I hope he never takes that for granted.”
She wondered if it was possible for her chest to hurt any worse than it did at that moment. If this was what a broken heart felt like, she’d been wise to avoid it all these years. And foolish to have let down those defenses with Adam.
Suddenly bone-weary, she said, “I should get back to my suite now.”
He nodded and moved to open the door for her, pausing with his hand on the knob. “I’m glad you came by tonight,” he said in a low voice. “I didn’t like the way that meeting ended, either. This is a much better way to say good—to say good night.”
She knew he’d changed his wording at the last moment, but he opened the door before she could try to get clarification. She couldn’t just stand there eyeing him suspiciously. Nor did she want him to see the depths of her disappointment.
“Good night, Adam.”
He caught her arm just as she reached the threshold and lowered his head for one last, lingering kiss. Another mixed signal, she thought even as she was unable to resist responding. Just one last time, she promised herself.
“Sleep well, JoJo,” he murmured, releasing her.
The door closed quietly behind her when she stepped outside and drew a long, shaky breath. The tropical air that had felt so fresh before tasted cloyingly sweet now, reminding her that she didn’t belong here. This was only a vacation resort, a place for fantasies that couldn’t last forever.
* * *
THE RESORT WAS subdued at 1:00 a.m., with few sounds filtering from the outside into Adam’s bedroom, where he sat brooding in a chair by the open window. Maybe a handful of night owls were enjoying last call at the bar or taking moonlit strolls on the beach, but all in all, the place was tucked in for the night. Weekends tended to be livelier even at this hour, but this Thursday night—early Friday morning, technically—was peaceful. Adam doubted anyone would even notice if he carried his bags down to his car and drove away.
Just the way he liked it. No one hanging around to exchange difficult goodbyes.
Maybe he should do just that. Maybe he would take a couple weeks of the vacation time he’d accumulated. Or maybe he’d end up back on the road, looking for a new gig in a fresh setting. He could make a decent living doing construction or landscaping, neither of which should be hindered by the limited mobility of his right arm. He could sell cars or sporting goods, or drive a truck and schlep packages. Anything that didn’t require a degree, but still paid enough for his basic needs and for weekly contributions to his son’s college fund. He wasn’t choosy.
He’d never planned to stay here as long as he had. Never expected to rise to a position of responsibility. Never thought he’d be offered a big promotion with a sizable raise, something Trevor had discussed with him just last week. He’d said he needed time to think about it, and even with all his new venture deadlines looming, Trevor had told him to take the time he needed. Adam had spent the past week trying to figure out why the idea of settling into a management position even here at the resort had brought a tightness to his throat that had felt uncomfortably like panic.
How could he be expected to be a stable presence in a kid’s life when he couldn’t even commit to a job?
His father hadn’t offered much in the way of paternal wisdom during Adam’s youth. Still, something his dad had said to him on one of those brief visits when Adam was maybe fourteen had stuck with him.
“Boy, it’s a big world out there,” Doyle Scott had spouted, raising one tattooed hand to smooth back the salt-and-pepper hair he’d worn in a scraggly, leather-tied ponytail. “Don’t let nobody chain you to one little parcel of it.”
With that old echo whispering in the back of his mind, Adam shifted restlessly in his chair. He couldn’t help wondering if he’d inherited more than gray eyes from his dad. Why else would the thought of making a commitment—to a job, to a child, to a woman—make him break out in cold sweats and doubt his ability to fulfill any promises?
Maybe he’d stay. Maybe he wouldn’t. Whichever choice he made, Joanna and Simon would be gone in a couple of days. A few weeks after that, they’d be on their way to Seattle, as far as they could get from here without falling into the opposite ocean. Joanna co
uld go back to her counseling, or whatever she did, and Simon would excel in school, probably eventually earning an advanced degree well beyond Adam’s hard-earned high school diploma and a few community college classes. They’d be fine without him. Better than fine.
His attention was caught by a crayon drawing on the dresser. He stilled, then stood and moved slowly toward the dresser, where he picked up the map of the resort Simon had made for him and looked down at it somberly.
His stomach clenched. His throat felt as though it had been scalded. Shredded. The old, healed scars on his chest seemed to throb with fresh injury. His eyes burned as if filled again with desert sand. He squeezed them closed, but he could still see the childish writing in his mind.
To Mr. Adam, from Simon Z.
After several deep, lung-filling breaths, he moved across the room, opened a drawer in nightstand, and dug out a worn leather pouch. The pouch had once closed with a leather strip wrapped around a horn button, but he’d lost the button at some point. He opened the flap and withdrew a wallet-size photograph. He’d taken this photo with his phone six years ago and had it printed. It wasn’t of the highest quality or the best artistic arrangement. The glossy photo paper was tattered at the corners and creased down the middle, but all he saw was the smiling face of the subject.
Wearing a bathing suit with a flowered sarong wrapped at the hips, Joanna had stood on the beach, her longer hair whipping around her, her face lit with sun and laughter. Though he wasn’t much of a photographer, he’d captured the moment on impulse. He wasn’t even sure she’d known he’d taken it. This print had gone with him to Afghanistan, had been stashed in his hospital bedside table and had been with him ever since. He’d considered it one of the few mementoes of his life BND, as he thought of it. Before Near Death. He hadn’t looked at the print often, but he’d pulled it out occasionally when he tried to remember what it had been like to be so convinced of his own immortality. A time when he’d remembered how to laugh and have fun with a beautiful woman without thinking about the past or the future.
Very carefully, he folded the crayon drawing and slipped it into the envelope with the photo, stashing the pouch back in the drawer.
* * *
“THERE YOU ARE. I’ve been looking for you.”
Stretched on her stomach on a soft beach towel, letting the sun soak into her skin, Maddie opened her eyes in response to the familiar male voice. The first thing she saw was a pair of brown loafers, their spit-shined surface dusted with sand. She raised her gaze up a pair of creased khakis, past a pale blue, long-sleeve shirt to a face that glistened in the afternoon heat, as if he’d tramped around for a while in his search.
She pushed upward and swiveled to sit up on the big towel, her bare legs bent to one side. Tossing her crimson hair out of her face, she patted the fabric beside her. “I didn’t bring a spare towel, but I’m willing to share.”
Walt tilted his head. “I’m not sure if I can get back up once I’m down there.”
She groaned. “Don’t start with the age thing again, please.”
Shrugging, he lowered himself to the towel beside her, settling cross-legged on a hot-pink unicorn, yet somehow still managing to look like a tough male. “I’m not accustomed to doing business on a beach towel.”
So this was about Joanna and Adam. Tamping down regret, Maddie adjusted her purple bikini top, dug into her straw bag and pulled out a bottle of water. She twisted off the cap, offered a sip to Walt, who waved it away with a smile, then swallowed several sips before setting the bottle aside. “Okay. I’m not exactly dressed for a negotiation, but what can I do for you, Walt?”
“I think you’re dressed just fine.” He ran his gaze over her scantily clad body, and she gulped as if he’d made that journey with his hand rather than his eyes.
Whoa. She almost reached for her water again.
Drawing his eyes back to her face, he gave her a crooked smile that was part grimace, as if the words had slipped out despite himself. “Sorry. I’m not usually so unprofessional.”
She brushed back her blowing hair again, not even trying to hide the fact that she enjoyed making him forget his better judgment. “You don’t hear me complaining. But maybe we should wait until business is settled before we pursue this.”
He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Uh, business. Adam wanted me to make some arrangements with you and your sister on his behalf. He said he didn’t want a repeat of that formal meeting yesterday.”
“Seriously? He doesn’t even want to be involved in the discussions?”
“Apparently not. He left me a voice mail with instructions at two this morning. I had my phone turned off—some people actually sleep at that hour—but I caught the message a few hours later. He said he wants us to go ahead and set up a fund for Simon that he can contribute to regularly. He said he’s taking the day off—a very rare event, believe me—but we’re to call him if we have any questions we can’t settle without him. He said he’d see us later, tomorrow if not this evening.”
“Well, I suppose that’s convenient. Joanna’s out on an all-day outing with Simon. The last thing she told me was not to talk to Adam if I ran into him today. I think she was afraid I’d start a fight with him or something. I guess she didn’t know he was taking a personal day.”
Maddie had informed Joanna tartly that she was perfectly capable of controlling herself around Adam, though she’d made no promises that she wouldn’t verbally cut him to bits if he dared criticize her sister. “He hasn’t taken off, has he? Hasn’t run out on her again?”
Walt scowled. “He hasn’t run out—and from what I understand, that isn’t exactly the way it went last time. He’s taking a vacation day, that’s all. Said he needed a few hours away from work and people to get his head together. I mean, that makes sense, right? This has all hit him pretty hard.”
“It makes sense that he’d have conflicted emotions about finding out he has a son. Jo has a few tangled emotions herself. You think she’s happy about having her son’s biological father show up? Simon is everything to her, her whole life. She’d do anything to protect him.”
“I get that. You’re pretty fond of him, too.”
“I adore him,” she replied simply. “And I’d rip the nose off anyone who ever hurt him.”
Walt reached up to rub his nose. “I’ll, uh, keep that in mind.”
Maddie hit her knee with her fist. “What is it with this guy, anyway? What kind of coward is afraid to acknowledge his own son?”
Walt’s expression hardened. “Adam Scott is no coward. He’s a decorated soldier who, like me, barely made it back. This development hit him out of the blue, but on the whole, I think he’s gone above and beyond to do whatever he can for this boy. Trust me, if it had been up to me, there’d have been definitive paternity test results before any financial offers.”
Her eyes narrowed. She drew back in fresh indignation. “Are you implying again that my sister would lie about her son’s paternity?”
He held his ground. “Of course I had suspicions when I first learned of the situation. My friend informed me a woman he’d known for only a weekend had turned up with a son she claimed was his, and that he was making the kid his sole beneficiary. You’d have reacted the same if a client came to you with that scenario.”
He was probably right, but Maddie wasn’t about to admit it. “My sister is not a scammer.”
“I’m pretty sure of that now. I only had to talk to her for a few minutes—and to see Simon, by the way—to figure she was telling the truth, at least about his connection to Adam. But Adam is my friend as well as my client, and he’s doing the best he can to deal with this. I won’t let anyone call him a coward.”
“He won’t even let Joanna tell Simon that Adam is his father.”
“Maybe he thinks that’s for the best. Maybe he’s convinced this is better than hagg
ling over visitation and parental rights. I don’t know. But having no idea how I’d react, I’m not going to second-guess his decisions.”
She bit back any further criticism. Walt hadn’t taken that well. Fair enough. She wasn’t going to let him say a word against Joanna, either.
She and Walt might have crazy chemistry, but they were very much on opposite sides in this situation. And while she could respect Walt’s loyalty, she still found Adam’s actions hard to understand.
She sighed and nodded. “Okay, fine. I’ll talk to Joanna, but my prediction is that she’s not going to be overly cooperative with the legal arrangements. She’s no more interested in formal negotiations than Adam is. From what she’s said to me, I believe she’ll instruct you to advise your client to set up an account for Simon himself and contribute to it as he sees fit in the future. She won’t accept a penny of the money to use for her own benefit.”
“Your sister is a proud woman.”
“A proud, independent and very stubborn woman,” she amended.
“Something tells me the two of you are very much alike.”
Maddie smiled faintly. “If you’d said that to me ten years ago—even six years ago—I’d have said you were crazy. Joanna was the star student, the dutiful daughter, the one who never broke a rule or even missed a curfew.”
“And you?”
She shrugged, relaxing now that the conversation had turned more personal. Maybe Walt irked the hell out of her when he defended his buddy, but she still found him sexy as all get-out. She brought a hint of flirtation back to her voice when she murmured, “I was none of those things.”
He eyed her with a renewed wariness. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
She laughed softly and reached out to trace his jaw. “Can’t imagine.”
“I, uh, I guess you turned out okay, regardless. Smartass,” he added wryly, “but respectable.”
Her grin widened. “I’m not so sure my parents would agree with you, but once their perfect older daughter got herself knocked up, I looked a little better to them. Dad’s still waiting for me to join a more upscale country club legal firm—or at the very least, become a professor—and both of them wish Jo would concentrate on getting tenure at an Ivy League university rather than going into practice, but they’ve resigned themselves. I think Jo’s picked up a few tips from me about living her own life without worrying so much about pleasing others.”
