“I know you didn’t.”
“I am so incredibly sorry for your loss. I cannot imagine what you went through. Between losing your son four years ago, your mother a year ago, and then going through a divorce—I don’t see how you’re sane.”
I chuckled. “Water, running, Hendricks gin, and my father, plus my old boss and good friend Melissa Landry, are to thank for my sanity.”
Zac nodded and then gently squeezed my waist with his hand. I knew he intended that squeeze as a comforting gesture—and it was—but it also made me feel like crawling into his arms. I wanted to feelbothof them wrapped around me just like they’d been at the running trail this morning. I wanted to share that same kind of intimate embrace with Zac right this second, feel his body pressed against mine and the side of my face resting against his, and I wanted it to happen here within this water that he and I both enjoyed so much.
I couldn’t crawl into his arms, though, where I knew he’d immediately receive me. We weren’t alone like we were less than eight hours ago. We had an audience of one at the moment, and it was Zac’s mini-me, who was kicking his legs and having fun making little splashes in my pool.
“Something that I never dreamed would happen is that date on your chest becoming something positive for me, but it has,” I went on to say. “The birth ofyourson has made it that way and I’m grateful.”
Zac nodded at me again and remained quiet. Then he gazed up at the summer sky above us, and that’s when I noticed the tears forming in his eyes, matching mine. I looked back at Malcolm, who was looking back and forth between his daddyand me. He smiled at us and then started kicking his little legs again in the water. And again—Zac gave me another comforting squeeze on my waist, but this time, after he did, he pulled my body even closer to his.
The three of us continued floating for about five more minutes, going round and round in circles, then Malcolm said, “I need to go tee-tee, Daddy.”
“Okay. I’ll take you back to mermaid Stevie’s bathroom.”
Zac reached out for Malcolm and the three of us swam over to the steps again. As the two Buchanans were getting out of the water, I told the eldest where the beach towels were. He smiled and thanked me.
As he and his mini-me stepped onto the pool deck, I noticed something. Not about Malcolm. About Zac.
Because his running shorts were wet now, they were hanging lower in the front and I could see quite a bit of his Adonis belt. They were the two V-shaped muscular grooves on every man’s abdomen that ran vertically alongside their hips. And Zac’s? To say they were visually appealing to me was putting it lightly.
As I watched Zac walk Malcolm over to the patio table and begin drying him off with one of the beach towels that I’d put there, I kept thinking about the name “Adonis.” In Greek Mythology, he was the god of fertility and the mortal lover of Aphrodite, the goddess of sexual love and beauty. A man who was considered desirable and attractive was often referred to as an “Adonis” and I was currently staring at one named Zac Buchanan. He was so desirable and attractive and he obviously had the fertility part covered too.
“We’ll be right back,” he said, looking over his shoulder at me.
“Take your time.”
While they were gone, I took off my mermaid’s tail and put it back into the storage room. Then I wrapped a beach towelaround my waist and sat down on one of the chairs next to the patio table. My cellphone was within reach and the thought of playing a music playlist that I had on it crossed my mind. I’d made it while in Destin, Florida—a solo trip that I intentionally took alone, not long after losing my Malcolm. I did it despite Graham’s objection, as well as my parents’ concern. It was just something that I had to do for myself and I’d never regretted it.
I could vividly remember my first night there, sitting on the beach, listening to the waves crashing against the shoreline, breathing in the salty air, and gazing up at the sky. From where I sat and as far as I could see, it looked like an ocean of stars above me.
After being on the beach for about half an hour, I decided to play some music on my cellphone and knew which song I wanted to hear first: “Nightingale” by Norah Jones. It fit the state of my heart and my soul at the time. While listening, all the emotions that I’d been holding inside began pouring out and I let them continue pouring until I couldn’t cry anymore.
When I went back inside the beach house that I’d rented, I created a Pandora playlist and added “Nightingale” first. After that night and in the days that followed, I continued adding songs from all genres. Some of them helped me continue grieving my loss of Malcolm while others helped me smile. Since that trip, my feelings about all my grieving songs had evolved into something positive. I could listen to any one of them now without getting emotional. I enjoyed the songs for what they were: a beautiful gift. In the mood to hear the gift of Norah Jones again, I grabbed my cellphone and began playing the song in the number one slot on my playlist.
As soon as Zac and Malcolm walked back outside, Malcolm came running up to me with his eyes big and full of worry.
“Where did your tail go, Stevie?” he asked.
“I had to make it go away for a little while so it could rest. It was tired from swimming.”
Malcolm didn’t say anything else about it. He just crawled into my lap and rested his tiny body against mine. I wrapped my arms around him, snuggled him even closer to me, and then asked Zac if he was going to join us. He was still standing up and staring straight at me.
“I’d love to, but I feel like we’ve already taken up enough of your time,” he said.
“No, you haven’t. I don’t have anything else planned for the rest of this day and would very much enjoy it if you two stayed here for a little while longer.”
Zac paused, then finally said, “Okay, we’ll stay. Thank you.”
“Of course. Now have a seat.”
As he sat down, he glanced over at my cellphone. “That’s Norah Jones I hear.”
“It sure is.”
“I haven’t heard her music in a long time.”