“My darling, I’m here. Always here,” she breathes, eyes closed, hugging her niece tightly. “Why didn’t you call me? I would have come straight away.”
Beau sniffles and breaks away, wiping at her nose. “So much has happened, and...” She steps back. “Wait, do—”
“James called me.”
Her shoulders drop. It’s relief. “He did?”
“Of course he did.” She takes Beau’s hand and leads her to the island, sitting her down. “I know your father and I didn’t see eye to eye, but he’s still my brother.Wasmy brother. Oh, how terrible!”
“They said he was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Beau says, and Zinnea visibly recoils. She should. If Beau pursues this, it could be a disaster. “I think they’re lying to me, Lawrence. And now Ollie’s missing, and a new cop’s shown up asking questions.”
He doesn’t even correct her for using his birth name while he’s his alter ego. That’s how worried Lawrence is by Beau’s splurge of words. He just looks at her in sympathy.
“Did you actually travel in that?” I ask, motioning to her canary-yellow fishtail dress, needing to give Zinnea a moment, time to think about how she might approach this.
She looks down her front, as if she might have forgotten she’s wearing the blinding monstrosity. “This old thing?”
“You bought it last Easter,” Beau pipes in. “It’s barely a year old.”
“Oh, did I?” Zinnea, rests a hand on her chest, feigning thinking, and I laugh in disbelief, going to her, welcoming her back with a kiss.
“Good luck,” I whisper in her ear, feeling her squeeze my hip in reply, then I go in search of my boy, finding him in his room on his bed, his phone, as ever, glued to his hand. I’m blessed with his attention when I walk in, and it is all I can do not to throw myself at him and hug the life out of him. Today has been a constant, cruel, consistently painful reminder of a past life I’m slowly accepting I will never be allowed to forget. But I also feel so... accomplished. Lucky. The shit aside, I feel like I’ve done something worthwhile. Not be a wife or a mom or a friend. But something for someone else. I feel like I’ve done something that might change the world in a tiny way.
“Hey, Mom,” Daniel says, tossing his cell aside and getting up. His dark hair is wildly overgrown, and adorable on him. My lip wobbles, and I quickly get it under control.
“Hey, baby.” My arms lift of their own volition, beckoning him to me, and it’s as if he appreciates in his selfish, teenager head that I need a moment. Just a moment. He comes to me and hugs me and, God, he’s gotten even taller in the time I’ve not seen him. A week. That’s all. But after all the years I missed out on, a week feels like so much longer.
“You okay?” I stick my nose in his hair and smell St. Lucia. The sea, the air, the salt and sand. I miss being there. But more so, I’ve missed this boy. I hate that the only connection we’ve had is via technology that he barely uses for me. But I get it. I just miss him.
“What’s going on?” he asks. “Who were all those women?”
I freeze, my smile falling.I’m so glad he can’t see my face because it’s currently twisted. “Just a few friends who needed help.”
“Oh, please, Mom.” He breaks away and looks at me with eyes too knowing and earnest for a thirteen-year-old kid. And now he can see my face, and since my son isn’t blind or stupid, he can see the sheer shock and awkwardness I’m feeling. I knew I wouldn’t be able to hide this life from him forever, but I was banking on a few more years and a little more maturity so that when I give him my story—ourstory, Daniel’s and mine from the moment he was born—he might comprehend that this life we’re in, Danny’s job, our family, is a blessing, and how me meeting Danny was what saved me. Saved me and reunited me with my son. “I know what Mister does,” he goes on in a matter-of-fact, almost nonchalant tone.
Shit.I am not prepared for this. It’s been an emotionally draining day at best. “You mean jet skis.”Please say yes.
“He’s mafia, Mom. Everyone knows it.”
“Everyone?” I squeak, rather than laughing at the absurdity of his suggestion, or even denying it.
“Yes, everyone. Even Barney’s dad knows.”
“Oh.”Someone help me.
Daniel rolls his eyes at me and goes back to the bed, collecting his phone and showing me the screen. An article about James and Danny fills it. “Who showed you that?” I ask, swiping it from his hand.
“Barney.”
I suddenly don’t like Barney. “Well, just so you know, this journalist is a bad, bad person.”
“Has this got anything to do with Mom and Da—I mean Hilary and Derek separating?”
My God.“How do you know about that?” I practically screech.
“She called me. Said she’d moved out of town. But Derek is still in Miami.”
What the hell do I tell him? That the people he knew as his parents for ten years bought him on the black market? That because of that, Derek got caught up in a whole other fucking mess trying to get Danny killed? “I don’t know anything about that.”