“You’re willing to have your heart broken but not your son’s?”
She didn’t bother to dispute that her heart was on the line. “Yeah.”
“Then you have to make sure Jordan doesn’t misunderstand. Ra’if is just a friend. When you and he hang out around Jordan, there can’t be anything that crosses those lines.”
“This is crazy.”
“Good crazy,” Tara promised.
But Melinda wasn’t so sure. She spent all day going back and forth on the subject. She worried she’d made a serious error in judgement as the tube hurtled them through London, until they arrived at South Kensington and made their way through the underground tunnel that led to the Natural History Museum. Jordan talked the whole way.
He loved history, and the walls inside the tunnels gave him plenty of fodder. She half-listened, half-fretted, until they emerged above ground. The Natural History Museum stood shoulder to shoulder with the pock-marked side of the Victoria & Albert Museum. The night tasted cold. She breathed it in, giving herself a minute to enjoy the sparkling buildings, edged in fairy lights, the trees that glowed golden with the same magical lighting, and the sound of festive energy that resonated in the air.
“Look!” Jordan pointed to the ice and Melinda followed his gaze, a frown marring her features for a moment. The usually thriving attraction was completely bare. Disappointment swelled in her gut. Was it possible they’d arranged to come on a night when the ice rink was closed?
“Come on. Let’s go have a closer look.”
There was a merry go round in the foreground. They walked past it, the music almost sinister, with the horses and their glass eyes groaning slowly in their never-ending circles.
“Mama? Is it closed?”
She paused, her eyes scanning the rink. The lights were on. The music was playing, and there were some random uniformed staff members in the corners. “No, I don’t think it is.”
Her frown deepened as they went closer, and she finally saw him.
Ra’if.
Her stomach flipped over, then back again. Her heart throbbed. “There’s mama’s friend,” she murmured, lifting the hand of Jordan’s she held to point down the path.
Jordan’s frown matched her own. “He’s big.”
She laughed. “Well, he’s a grown up. You’ll be big like him one day.”
Jordan appeared to take this in, nodding slowly.
“Hi,” Melinda murmured when they were close enough to be heard. “You picked a quiet night for us to visit.”
He laughed. “Something like that.”
“Ra’if?” She thought of his car and his apartment, the clothes he wore, and shook her head. “Did you book the whole place out?”
He shook his head, to delay the conversation for a moment. “You must be Jordan.” He crouched down, his manner surprisingly relaxed.
“Yeah. Jordan Higgins.” He seemed to think this wasn’t, perhaps, a sufficient introduction and added, for good measure, “I’m five. Soon I’ll be six. And then ten.”
Ra’if kept a straight face with effort. “I see. Well? Can you skate?”
Jordan’s eyes drifted to the ice. “I probably can. I haven’t in a long time. Have I, mama?”
“Nope. You were two last time I brought you here.”
“Two? That’s a baby.”
“Well, yes,” she grinned. “But they had a special class just for little kids. You liked it then. I think you will now.”
“I think it will hurt if I fall.”
“Perhaps, but we’ll help you.” He stood up, his eyes locking to Melinda’s with a heat that made her body flash with goose bumps. “Ready?”