A light breeze entered through her open sunroof. See? When you refuse to wallow, life had a way of ironing itself out, didn’t it? She glanced down at her cover-up, mulling whether it truly covered enough for her to stop in at the hotel lobby. She had a pair of capris and espadrilles in the car that she could change into, so she figured why not? and headed for the inn.
A catcall split the air as she hurried inside the lobby doors. Her red hair was still piled on top of her head and she reflexively touched the back of it with her fingers.
The minute she strolled inside, Trace waved her over. “You smell like coconut oil.”
“I’ve been out at the beach. You said you had a surprise for me?”
Trace grabbed a flyer advertising nearby golf and fanned herself with it. “My goodness, Priscilla, you have a way of attracting some of the hottest oldsters in these parts.”
Priscilla frowned. “Oldsters?”
“I don’t mean that they’re, you know, ready for the old folks home or anything like that. Not geezers,” she said, laughing. “But first Mr. Prince gets all googly-eyed about you, and now some older gentleman from Virginia checks in, wanting to know where you are.”
Her insides began a slow and uncomfortable descent like she was standing inside a hole-filled, sinking boat. She frowned. “How do you know he’s from Virginia?”
Trace’s finger flew across her computer keyboard. She turned the screen toward Priscilla. “Says so right there: Leonardo Shelby.”
She took a step back, her pulse slowing more.
Trace pursed her lips. “One thing, though: He’s got a little girl with him. She’s cute. Maybe a grandchild?”
“Oh for goodness sake, Trace, he’s in his forties.” Priscilla frowned, took another step back, raising her palms. She wasn’t surrendering—it was more like a “hands off” stance.
“Oh?” Trace said. “Well, then. You want his room number?”
She shook her head, her gaze darting for the inn’s sliding doors. “No, I think I’ll go home and maybe call in later ...”
“There he is!” Trace’s face lit up with victory, as if pointing out a celebrity who had strolled out of a backstage door.
A trickle of sweat ran down Priscilla’s neck and slipped beneath her cover-up. She set her chin and turned.
“Priscilla? It really is you.” Leo approached her, eyes smiling, cheeks dimpled, as if they had not parted on less-than-amicable terms.
She wanted to run away. To dart for the nearest door and never return. Instead, she slowed her breathing and jerked a look at her ex-husband. She had loved him once.
His eyes traveled across her face, as if searching for some kind of recognition, or at the very least, a positive reaction. He gave her that same old smile, the crooked one that had once struck her as quirky. Now, it made her skin itch.
“You look beautiful,” he said.
His words sounded too shallow to sink in. Instinctively, she crossed her arms in front of her. How dare he bring his family here, of all places?
Priscilla slid a look toward the concierge desk where Trace watched with curiosity. She had nothing to say to him but also had no interest in making a scene, something that could live on in the memories of her co-workers long after Leo had gone.
Then, as if light suddenly flickered on, she noticed the girl in his arms. A child. And she was ... breathtaking. Smooth, full cheeks with patches of pink. Hair of blonde ringlets ... like her mother’s.
Priscilla pulled her gaze away from the cherub. “What are you doing here?” she said to Leo, emotionless, which surprised her. She thought if she were ever to see her ex-husband again she’d shrug it off. C’est la vie and all that. But seeing him here tripped a wire inside her heart and she wanted to do something that simply was not her style—she wanted to scream.
Leo reached out and grazed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. She turned aside, like a flinch. But as she did, the child in his arms stirred.
Slowly, Priscilla raised her gaze from the stone tile that made up the inn’s lobby and landed it on the little girl. She bit the inside of her bottom lip. The child peered at Priscilla, eyes watery blue like the sea. The moment froze. It wasn’t this tiny child’s fault that her parents had betrayed Priscilla in the way that they had.
The girl stretched her small body away from Leo. She reached precious pudgy hands to her, and on instinct, Priscilla scooped her up, rocking her as she held her close.
“Her name’s Mia.” Leo flexed his hands and popped his knuckles. “She’s three. Brought her here by myself.”
Mia pressed her cheek to Priscilla’s chest and curled her arms in front of her small body, telegraphing her need.
“Are you tired?” Priscilla asked quietly.
Mia nodded, then stuck a thumb in her mouth. She didn’t know much about three-year-olds, but she sensed this child needed some reassurance, as well as a woman’s touch.
Priscilla looked up. She cleared her throat, her head full of questions. Yet she did not wish to startle the child. Mia had wedged her head between Priscilla’s chin and upper chest, and she appeared to have fallen asleep.
“Let’s sit in the lobby,” Priscilla said, leading the way. She did not wait for Leo’s reply, but lowered herself carefully onto a tufted leather sofa.
“You are still as strong as ever,” he said, sitting next to her, his hands folded together. “Mia may look tiny, but when she’s asleep, it’s like dead weight in your arms.”
He did not offer to take Mia from her. Priscilla adjusted herself, sliding a fat pillow beneath one of her elbows. The shock of seeing Leo—and his child—was beginning to fade. She met his gaze head-on. “I asked you what you were doing here.”
His eyes creased at the corners. “I came to find you.”
“Why?”
His voice deepened, the sound of it like an echo from their past. “I’ve missed you.”
She narrowed her eyes, and a doubt-filled smile found its way to her face. “I don’t believe you.”
Leo shifted, putting one arm on the back of the couch behind her. He was facing her now on that sofa, an urgency in his gaze. He used to make a similar move when watching a game on TV or when reaching for the last slice of pizza. Rarely, though, when focused on her.
Leo raked a hand through his thinning hair. What he’d lost up top he had made up for in his scruffy beard, and, reluctantly, she admitted to herself what Trace had already alluded to earlier: Leo wore it well. He showed no signs of his back injury from years before, and today he looked tan and fit, as if he had become a member of an outdoor gym. A quick assessment reminded her why she had been drawn to him from the very start.
But that ended on close inspection.
Despite the abundance of laugh lines, his eyes were tinged with red. Fatigue appeared to weigh on him, his eyes smaller than she had remembered. And he popped his knuckles often. Nerves, maybe?
“You’re going to make this hard on me, aren’t you?”
“Depends on what ‘this’ is. You still haven’t told me why you’re here, Leo.”
He scooted closer. “Call me darling. Like you used to.”
She frowned and slowly wagged her head side to side. “If you missed me, you could have called.” She paused. “I could have saved you the trip.”
He hung his head yet his eyes flipped a look up at her, like a little boy who had been caught doing something naughty but who hoped for a reprieve anyway. “Let’s start over.”
“Absolutely. I’ll begin. Where’s Marnie?” Priscilla was unwilling to allow him to skirt the issue of the other woman.
“Gone.”
“On a trip?” Priscilla had suspected this. Marnie had always liked her girls’ weekends. Leo had likely begun to grow tired of her shenanigans and had decided to go on an adventure of his own. She could not allow herself to be dragged into something so ... tawdry.
His mouth turned down, a cheerlessness to it. Something akin to real emotion developed in his eyes, which po
oled. “She’s gone ... for good.” His voice cracked.
Instinctively, Priscilla tightened her grip on the child. Tension crept across her forehead. “No. That can’t be. Not without her child,” she whispered.
He rolled a look at her, their eyes clashing. In his returned gaze, she saw that he was telling the truth. He swallowed and put a finger to his mouth, gesturing with a glance at his daughter.
Priscilla released a sigh and pressed her back into the sofa. Her extremities turned cold, a white-hot anger roiling through her. What he was telling her was unfathomable. How could a mother leave her child like this?
Mia pushed away from her, suddenly awake. The spot where she had laid her head swam with sweat. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands repeatedly. “We going to the beach?” Her voice sounded so tiny.
Priscilla sent a doubtful look at Leo. A sliver of a smile appeared on his face. “Well,” he said, wicking a look over her, “you’re dressed for it.”
She twisted pursed lips at him, torn over how much anger she should allow to spill out. Concern niggled at her, though. He was as handsome as ever, but with frayed edges somehow. Could his injury return? The one that had put him out of commission for enough time to fall out of love with her?
She shook off her thoughts, which were none of her concern anyway. That life was over and she had no interest in resurrecting it.
Instead, she gave Mia a quick smile. “Sure, honey. I’d be happy to show you the beach.”
Ten minutes later they stepped onto the sand, Priscilla still wavering from the shock of Leo—and Mia’s—sudden appearance. She crossed her arms in front of her as they walked, but stole another glance at him. When had she ever seen him in shorts and flip-flops?
“That’s unusual attire for you,” she said, making conversation.
“As they say, ‘when in Rome’.”
“Hmm. They do say that, yes.”
He put Mia down and she ran on ahead of them, chasing after a band of sandpipers poking their beaks into packed, wet sand. “Shoo!” she said. “Shooooo!”
Leo laughed.
“What happened?” Priscilla asked, keeping her eyes on Mia, the roar of waves in their ears.
“She said it was too much. That she never wanted to be a mother.”
Ridiculous. Priscilla could still hardly imagine this to be true. Who abandons their child? She blew a breath into the wind. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t reckon I know the answer to that right now.” He slid a glance at her, holding her eyes longer than felt comfortable to her. “Had to get away from there—everybody hates me, you know.”
She knew, but something else she had learned the hard way: people weren’t all that comfortable around her anymore either. Some from back home had either whispered when she walked by or flashed accusing glances at her, as if she’d had something to do with Leo’s betrayal.
And those had been her friends.
Well, Leo had made his bed, so to speak. And he had chosen to stay in the town where they once lived together—in their old house—with a new woman and their child. He’d flipped the bird to those who had seen his sins up close and cemented himself right there in the midst of them.
She almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Raising a child alone was not for cowards—no matter what precipitated the situation. At least he hadn’t shrunk away from his responsibilities.
Mia galloped along the beach, arms flailing. She suddenly stopped, put her hands onto her thighs, and stooped over.
Priscilla came alongside the little girl who was staring intently at the sand. She bent down. “What did you find?”
“Birdies,” Mia said, pointing at air holes in the wet sand.
Priscilla scooped up some of the sand, and along with it came a crab on its crusty back, its antennae cycling in the air. “This is a sand crab.”
“San cwab,” Mia said. She poked it with her finger and squealed, the sound of it searing Priscilla’s eardrum.
Priscilla released the creature back into the surf, then picked up a rough-surface clam shell and handed it to the little girl.
Mia laughed and pitched it onto the sand with a grunt. She picked up another shell and threw that into the air, too, watching it flip before landing on the soft sand. The remnant of a wave approached them, and Priscilla scooped up Mia before the cold water could reach her. Mia’s giggles could be heard above the pound of the surf.
“You’re a natural.” He was close behind her, oblivious to the pain his observation caused. How many times had she told him how much she longed for this very thing?
When Priscilla set the little girl down again, safely clear of the roving surf, Mia bounded along, a permanent smile on her face. When she caught up to her again, Mia reached up and grasped her fingers. They walked along together until reaching a flat, wet congregation of small rocks. Priscilla crouched down and began to sift through the rocks, looking for sea glass that could very well be hidden beneath the layers like diamonds.
Mia joined her on the hunt, and beneath the shadows of her eyelashes, Priscilla gazed at the little girl. She swallowed the lump that had welled in her throat.
Why couldn’t this have been her life?
Chapter 11
Wade had been sleeping for hours. Or was it days? He flicked a look at his phone, one eye open. He groaned and laid his head back down. Apparently, it only felt like days. The last time he had been sick had been years ago. So many that he could not exactly recall when that was, but one thing he knew: he had worked through it.
This time, though, whatever had knocked him out for the twenty-four hours had hit hard. He pulled himself into a seated position and stuffed a couple of pillows behind his back. Then he emptied his lungs with a long exhale.
Had Priscilla called him?
He looked at his phone and frowned, scrolling through the missed calls and voicemails. Nothing from her. No texts either.
His thumb hovered over her name on his phone, but the time caught his eye. He was late. Wade threw his phone onto the bed and pulled back the covers. After the raucous meeting at the inn the other night, he had promised to meet with Jackson and Sophia to discuss tweaks they might consider to the hotel as well as to the management of it. They had been planning to speak for some time, and now that Sophia was back, she said she was ready to pull her mind away from fashion for a little while and focus on what the inn needed from her.
Quickly, Wade showered and shaved. He felt ten times better than he had when he had fallen into bed the night before, but did he look it? He leaned closer to the mirror, peering into it. There were still visible remnants of bags beneath his eyes. He frowned and rubbed some lotion on his face that had been included with a purchase of his cologne. When had he ever spent quite so much energy primping for a meeting?
His phone rang and he grabbed it from his bed. “Good morning, Laura.”
“Have you checked your email?”
She sounded testy—not what he needed now. “Why don’t you tell me what it says.”
“There’s an issue with an inspection of the building in New York. Something about possible asbestos.”
Wade screwed up his mouth. Of course there was asbestos—it was a pre-war building. He drew in a breath and blew it out with a rush. “Have the other parties responded?”
“Yes, all of them have with sarcasm-laced replies. You’re the only one who has not added his two cents, but I knew you’d want to.”
His mind began to race, as it usually did when a matter pressed in, especially something as lucrative as this one. As he considered his response, a vague image pushed aside his thoughts. The other evening came into view, the night he ran into Sophia in the hall of the inn. He thought a moment. Where had they left things that evening? Did he even say goodnight to her?
Most of that evening was a blur, hence the plan for a more in-depth discussion today. Laura waited on the phone. Finally, he said, “I’ll defer to the others.”
“You’re kidding.
”
“I am not. I have a meeting to attend. If you hear of anything urgent, send me a text. Otherwise, I will be out of reach for the next few hours.”
By the time he arrived at the inn’s cafe for his meeting with Jackson and Sophia, most of the breakfast crowd had gone. Not a bad thing when business was on the agenda. It appeared they would have much of the place to themselves. He glanced at his phone. He’d called Priscilla on the way over here, but he’d had to leave a voicemail.
Jenny approached him. “Will you be meeting anyone?”
He nodded. “There will be three of us.”
She smiled and picked up several menus. “Right this way.”
Jenny led him to a table toward the back of the restaurant, close enough to enjoy the view of the sea, but far enough away from the main hub that they could speak freely. The path along the water’s edge was busier than usual when the fog made the resort less of a draw.
Still, he sensed someone familiar. Priscilla walking along that path at a fast clip. He watched her for a few seconds, mesmerized by the way she moved, by the confidence she imparted with each step. Even on her way to work in the spa, she dressed up. He wasn’t much for noticing a woman’s clothing style, but how could he miss the red heels, the belted, white dress that flared as she walked, and the oversized bag she held at the crook of her elbow?
He stood, put his napkin on his chair, and grinned at her through the window. She stopped as if sensing him standing there, watching her. When she spotted him, she slowed. The expression on her face darkened, even as her ruby lips smiled.
When she changed course and entered the cafe, he stood up to greet her. She smiled up at him, though her expression of uncertainty unsettled him.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi.” She tipped her head up, her eyes fully on him. He had craved that look from her.
Gently he brushed her cheek with a kiss. “You look more like you’re about to stroll along the French Riviera rather than tame wild hair.”
Beneath a Billion Stars Page 12
