âThatâs a pristine Persian rug. If a drop of water so much as touches a bristle, Iâm going to send it right back and demand compensation from the shipping company. Do you understand?â
âDonât worry, Ms. Quetzal. Weâre the best in the business. Weâll handle everything.â
I slide my sunglasses to the top of my head. âIâm counting on you.â
After hanging up, I drag the sun visor down. In the tiny mirror, I push out my lips, apply another coat of gloss and fix my collar.
Iâm wearing a pinstripe jumpsuit with flowy trouser legs and an oversized jacket. My heels are six inches tall because Iâm prepared to tear them off and use them as weapons if need be. And my hair is pulled back in a high ponytail.
Just breathe, Sunny.
My hands shake slightly when I grab my purse and step out into the sunshine. The courthouse looms in front of me, big and intimidating.
I take more sharp breaths and mount the stairs, ignoring the men who stop and watch me as if Iâm Elle Woods in a pink tiara in the middle of Harvard Law School. Have you never seen a woman before?
Thankfully, no one approaches me and Iâm spared from having to throat-punch anyone who makes me even later than I already am.
My heels click on the tiles as I hurry down the hallway, trying to find the right room. What was it again? Frantically, I fish around my purse for my cell phone and navigate to the message Dina sent me.
Before I can locate the text, I hear a familiar voice cry, âBut I wasnât planning on saying anything.â
My eyes widen. Micheal?
I sprint toward the sound, my heart slamming against my ribs. Turning the corner, I skid to a stop when I see Ms. Bennet hovering over Micheal, her lips pursed and her hand on his shoulder.
I want to smack her arm away from him, but I remove my sunglasses from my head and neatly tap it against my palm instead. My heels tap-tap-tap loud enough that both Bennet and Micheal look up.
The little boy notices me first and his eyes brighten like a Belizean sunrise. âSunny!â
âSh.â I place a finger to my lips. âCourtâs in session.â
âSorry.â He hangs back.
I crouch to his eye level and spread my arms out. âCome here.â
He grins, sprints toward me and wraps his arms around my waist. Heâs wearing a black shirt with a Batman symbol. His jeans donât even look ironed. What has Darrel been doing.
I press a kiss to his curly hair. He smells like baby shampoo and a little sweat. Not that I blame him. Itâs hot out here. I might have to ditch my jacket. Even if it goes well with my outfit, Iâm not about to stink up my Valentino just to impress⦠someone.
âLet me look at you,â I coo. Sandwiching his chubby cheeks between my hands, I smile. âYouâve gotten taller, havenât you?â
âNo, I havenât.â
âSomethingâs different. I can tell.â
âNothingâs different. You just havenât seen me in a while.â
âYouâre right.â I purse my lips because I really have missed them. âItâs been too long.â
âWhat are you doing here?â Micheal steps back. Brown eyes widen slowly. âArenât you supposed to be in Belize? Did you come back for good?â
I laugh and nod. âI still have to fly back and forth a few days a month to oversee some things on the island but, yes. You can say Iâm back for good.â
âSweet.â
Definitely sweet.
As I stare at Michealâs pale face, my mind drifts to the conversation I had with the client the morning after Kenya and Alistairâs wedding.
âWhat will it be? Are you giving up this opportunity or will you say yes to the best offer of your life?â
âIâm going to make you a counteroffer.â
She laughs. âThatâs unexpected. Iâm intrigued.â
âYouâre right to choose me for this project. Iâm a damn good designer and I can handle overseeing all aspects of the interior decoratingâfrom ordering the furniture to shipping it to Belize and moving it to the island.â
âOkayâ¦â
âBut I canât disappear for six months. I have important people here. People who need me. Iâm not prepared to abandon them for this job.â
âHm.â
âSo hereâs what I propose. Iâm willing to manage this project. You wonât have to lift a single finger or work out any kinks. Weâll stay within the budget and deliver exactly what you want. In exchange, I want to work from home.â
âCan you do it all from so far away?â She sounds worried.
âNot alone. Thatâs why, for the next two weeks, Iâll go to Belize, get familiar with the process, and pick a team that Iâll oversee virtually. That team will be my hands and feet.â
âI donât know.â
âIn exchange for putting your trust in me, Iâll work to cut the project time in half.â
âReally?â
âYes.â I lean forward. âBarring any unforeseen shipping disasters, your villa will be ready in three months.â
âThatâs a very ambitious goal. You donât know how unpredictable shipping internationally will be.â
âAnd you donât know how determined I can be when I put my mind to something. Do you really want to give up an opportunity like this?â
She laughs. âI didnât know you were such a negotiator, Sunny. Iâm impressed.â
âI want this job, but I donât want to give up anything to have it.â
She laughs. âI like a woman with gumption. Fine. Itâs a deal.â
The past two weeks have been a blur. I hit the ground running the moment I arrived at the Belize City airport, working like a madwoman to form a team and create an efficient shipping process.
It was tough. Fourteen days of non-stop work, little sleep, and haggling with locals wore my body down. However, I was desperate to get everything squared off within that specific timeframe.
Why?
Because those were the two weeks Micheal and Bailey would be staying with Darrel for sure. After the court hearing, the boys could be lost to me. I didnât want them to disappear without seeing me again.
Ms. Bennet steps forward, her sensible pumps entering my field of vision. I lift my head, drawing a line from her tight socks, her scraggly knees, her long skirt, tucked-in blouse and all the way to her disapproving stare.
I pull Micheal closer to my side and give her a stiff nod. âMs. Bennet.â
âMs. Quetzal.â
âShould you be out here? Arenât you supposed to be in court?â
âI have a representative inside.â
âI see.â
We both assess each other.
I tilt my head. âSince youâre out here, Iâm assuming you already made your remarks?â
âI did.â
âI bet it was riveting.â There shouldnât be so much sarcasm in a court of law, but I canât help myself.
âI only told the judge the truth. Iâve inspected the home environment and decided itâs not the right fit.â
âBased on what?â
âCommon sense and caution. Men are disproportionately responsible for the neglect and abuse of children. Iâm sure I donât need to spell it out to you.â She frowns. âIt is our responsibility, as guardians of innocent children, to be careful. There are some things we just canât allow.â
My fingers clench into fists, but I force myself not to react too visibly to her words. Instead, I squeeze Michealâs hand and look into his tiny face. âWeâre not on opposite sides of this fight.â Glancing up, I meet Ms. Bennetâs stare. âYou want to help these boys and keep them safe. You want it desperately. So do I. We just differ on the ways of going about that.â
She laughs. âThatâs a very different tune than the one you were singing when you barged into my office and threatened my job, Ms. Quetzal.â
âWas that an office? It felt more like a cubicle.â
She glares at me.
I glare back.
So much for trying to offer an olive branch.
âI recently learned that you and Mr. Hastings are⦠involved.â Ms. Bennet glances at Micheal. She lifts her lips in a smile, but her eyes remain hard. âHow can I expect you to think objectively when youâre too busy trying to please him?â
My smile is cruel. The Sunny from high school rears itsâ ugly head because the situation calls for it. âDo you want to throw those stones, Ms. Bennet?â
âExcuse me?â
âI recently learned that you and Major Hastings dated in high school. Major Hastings is, of course, Darrelâs late father.â
Her eyes widen and her jaw goes slack.
I hold her stare, my chin rising incrementally. Ms. Bennetâs dislike of Darrel felt so personal that I had to investigate further. On my downtime, I did some digging into her background, found an old high school mate of hers and learned about her relationship with Major Hastings. The contact sent me pictures of their yearbook, proving that Ms. Bennet and Major Hastings were an official couple all those years ago.
I arch an eyebrow. âCould that be why you have such an issue with his son?â
Her mouth opens and closes like a fish gaping for air.
âLook, I think you dodged a bullet, so Iâm hoping genuinely that youâre not still caught up on a man whoâs long gone.â I step closer to her. âBut if youâre trying to punish Darrel for the sins his father committed, I suggest you rethink your motivations while I still have a modicum of respect for your mission. The people who exact personal revenge under the guise of helping innocent children are the ones who make me sick.â
She stumbles back, a hand to her chest and her eyes darting all over.
I stare her down, waiting for her to try and defend herself.
She avoids eye contact and smacks her mouth shut.
Should have done that a long time ago.
The door of the courtroom creaks open, shattering the tension.
A clerk pokes his head out. âMicheal, ah, there you are. Have you decided if youâre going to speak yet?â
âNo.â Micheal stares at the ground.
âWhy are you pressuring him?â I ask, ready to go full mama-mode.
The clerk frowns. âMs. Bennet said she wanted to ask him questions before the judge.â
Of course she does. Iâm sure those questions would be twisted in a way to make Darrel seem like an awful parent.
Micheal shakes his head. âI donât want to go up there, Sunny. Do I have to?â
âNo, you donât.â I lift my chin. âHe doesnât want to do it.â
The clerk casts a look at Ms. Bennet.
I turn and stare at her too.
She glances away. âI donât have any further questions.â
I lead Micheal toward the clerk. âLook at that. It turns out you donât have to go up there at all.â
âThen why are we going back in?â
âWeâll just sit and listen, okay?â
âDo you think I should say something?â
âItâs up to you.â I squeeze his hand. âAll I know is that whatever happens, Mr. Darrel and I will always be in your life. Nothing they say today will change how much we care about you.â
I escort him into the room. Itâs surprisingly small and drab. The judge is pale and thin-faced with a hook nose and auburn hair. Her sharp eyes seem to take in every detail of our entrance as Micheal and I walk in.
We settle into the hard benches at the back of the room. I glance around and freeze when my eyes land on a familiar head of hair.
Darrel?
My heartbeat picks up speed. I havenât seen him since the wedding, but that doesnât mean I stopped thinking about him. Missing him almost drove me insane. I was happy to bury my crazed thoughts in my work. It was the only way I could fall asleep at night without dreaming of him.
I tuck Micheal close to me. âRelax, bud.â
He nods and blows out a breath.
âMr. Hastings,â the judge gestures to Darrel, âyour final remarks.â
I hold my breath, watching intently as Darrel rises to his full height. His hair looks like he ran his hands through it several times already and his eyesâoh gosh, heâs nervous. The closed-off neuropsychologist is wearing his emotions on his sleeves.
âYour Honor,â he says quietly. âIâve already stated all the sensible reasons why I am well-equipped to have custody of the boys. That includes my financial position as well as the live-in nanny that I recently hired. Iâve made my case, in all the ways I can think of, to prove that the boys will be safe and protected.â
The judge purses her lips and looks him over.
I do the same. Heâs wearing a pressed button-down and simple trousers. His hands are shaking slightly. He looks worn out. Bags under his eyes. Shoulders slumped. Skin weary.
Is it just because of the boys or is some of the weariness because he misses me?
What if he didnât miss you at all?
I push all those thoughts aside. The problems between Darrel and me donât matter right now. He was willing to marry me to keep these kids. I may not be sure what he feels for me, but I know for certain that he cares about Micheal and Bailey. More than anything, I want the outcome to be a good one.
âGo ahead, Mr. Hastings,â the judge says.
Darrel opens his mouth. Closes it. Breathes hard before speaking. âMy father didnât set a good example for me. He was,â he licks his lips, âhard to please and had his own ideas about the type of man I should be. I resented him to the point that I was terrified of becoming him. Because of what he stood for, I ran from the thought of calling myself a father. I actively fought against calling Micheal and Bailey my sons.â
The judge shifts in her chair.
My eyes widen. Darrel, what are you doing? Why are you admitting that right now?
âI watched over them as mere obligation. Their father was the professor who took me under his wings and gave me the courage to change career paths. I owed him, and I always pay my debts.â
Micheal hangs his head. I would too if my stand-in dad called me an âobligationâ in front of an entire courtroom.
I slant an angry look in Darrelâs direction. Darrel, what the hell are you saying? If he keeps talking nonsense, Iâm going to jump over the boundary between the onlookers and the rest of the court and Iâm going to choke him.
âI thought I was doing the kids a favor by taking them in. I didnât think there was anything they could teach me, anything I could gain from having them in my life. I believed I already had everything I needed. I didnât lack for money. I had a thriving practice. And I had no time for close connections. What could they possibly offer me?â
Micheal slowly lifts his head.
I hold my breath a little longer.
âI was wrong. Extremely wrong. I didnât know what I was missing until Micheal and Bailey came to me. The farmhouse was just a couple walls until they filled it with their laughter and their presence. My life turned into something meaningful. And I⦠I turned into someone who gets up in the morning with a purpose beyond myself. I go through the day worrying about them and wondering if theyâre okay. I rearrange my schedule because I love picking them up from school and helping them with their homework. Iâm fulfilled at the end of the night when theyâre safely in their beds after conquering the day with confidence because they know they can run to me if anything goes wrong.â
My chest tightens and I fight against the swell of emotions rising in me.
âMicheal and Bailey give me peace. They give me hope that the world can be a better place, and my world is a better place because theyâre in it. They challenge me to accept my past and reconsider what really matters in the present. My fears about being a father pale in comparison to how much I love having them around. Itâs an honor to protect them, to provide for them, and to care for them. I donât care how tough it gets, and honestlyâI donât care what this court decides. Nothing will change the fact that theyâre my home. Theyâre my family. Theyâre my sons.â
The judge looks down and rubs a palm over her eyes. âThank you, Mr. Hastings.â
Darrel nods and returns to his seat. On the way, he looks at the back row and his electric green eyes collide with mine.
I feel a jolt all the way to my toes.
His lips twitch and he mouths, âHi.â
âHi,â I mouth back to him.
Darrel glances at Micheal and nods. The little boy pulls his lips in, tears shimmering in his eyes.
I realize, in that moment, that I have no idea if Darrel Hastings really loves me, but I know one thing for sure.
I love him.
More than Iâve ever loved anyone.
Despair swells in my chest. How do I survive if Darrel Hastings doesnât love me back?
âCongratulations!â An explosion of confetti rains over our heads as we walk into the parking lot.
I jump back when I see a crowd of familiar faces.
âMr. Darrel!â Bailey takes off like a rocket. Tennis shoes pounding the pavement, he launches himself at Darrel. âIs it true? Are we really staying with you?â
âThatâs right, bud. Youâre staying with me.â
âYes, yes, yes!â Bailey pumps an arm. His glasses almost clank to the ground because of how excitedly heâs jumping around.
Micheal rolls his eyes, but a slow smile is spreading on his face. I think hearing Darrelâs true feelings about them took a load off his shoulder. I hope, going forward, that he can rest easy and just focus on being a kid.
âHow did you two know about this?â Darrel arches an eyebrow at Kenya and Alistair.
âAre you kidding? Did you think weâd miss this moment for anything?â Kenya chirps.
âShe had our bags packed from last night.â Alistair scowls. It doesnât last long though. His lips arch up again.
âI wish we could have arrived earlier, but our flight got delayed.â
âItâs okay.â Darrel nods. âIâm glad you made it.â
âWeâre glad youâre officially a dad.â Alistair slaps Darrelâs back. âCongratulations.â
Darrel accepts his words with a nod.
âHow should we celebrate this occasion?â I ask Belle.
âIce cream!â the kids yell in unison.
I smile in Darrelâs direction. My heart takes up permanent residence in my throat when he smiles back.
Our relationship is still in limbo. What will he say when weâre finally alone? Where do we go from here?
Our intense staring contest is broken when Bailey takes Darrelâs hand as he chats with Belle. Itâs such a casual, automatic gesture of trust and love, and it reminds me of the judgeâs speech when she ended the session.
âYou donât have to be related to be a positive influence. Little boys especially need a good male mentor, and Iâm glad Micheal and Bailey have one they can count on.â
âIce cream!â Bailey yells, making me jump. The little boy pushes Darrel toward the car.
Kenya laughs. âSomeoneâs impatient.â
âIâll meet you guys there,â I say, swinging my keys over my finger. It hurts to walk away from Darrel and the boys. It hurts to get into a vehicle alone. It hurts to drive in silence when I know Darrelâs car is probably alive with conversation and laughter.
I get to the ice cream parlor first. A line of fancy cars pull in behind me. The kids descend on the shop with loud chatter, lots of laughter and enough energy to fuel a tire factory.
Kenya loops her arm in mine as we step into the store. âYou okay, girl?â
âIâm good.â I give her a squeeze.
She rests her head against my shoulder. âNeed me to kick Darrelâs butt?â
I never told Kenya about the proposal fiasco, but she knows me too well. âNot right now, but Iâll let you know in the future.â
She laughs and we settle around a table.
Ms. Hansley tucks herself into a chair and flounces her skirt. Mouth curving up, she teases Darrel. âYour first act as their legal guardian is giving them ice cream.â The older woman tuts. âTheyâre going to be on a sugar high until eight.â
Ezekiel, Alistairâs executive assistant, pats her hand. âLet the kids celebrate. Theyâve earned it.â
Ms. Hansley blushes and nods shyly.
âHow was your honeymoon?â I ask Kenya.
âIt was amazing.â My best friend dives into a story about her romantic trip, and my eyes stray to Darrel.
Heâs bobbing his head as Belle talks his ear off about her ballet recital. As if he can feel my eyes on him, he turns his head slightly. Those piercing green jewels flash my way.
I whip my head back to Kenya. âOh, thatâs so interesting.â
âIs it?â She scrunches her nose.
âI mean⦠thatâs awful.â
Kenya snorts. âYouâre not hearing a word Iâm saying, are you?â
My eyes shift to Darrel again. This time, heâs locked in conversation with Ezekiel. Theyâre discussing something about Belleâs Beauty.
âUhâ¦â
My phone chirps.
Glad for an excuse to look away from my best friendâs probing gaze, I snag my phone from my purse and check the notifications.
Mom: How did the hearing go?
I gasp.
Kenya leans over my shoulder and spies on the screen. âWhat is it?â
âHow does mom know about today? Did you tell her?â
âNo.â Kenya purses her lips.
I glance up.
Darrel runs his hands through his hair and looks my way too.
I quickly avert my eyes.
Alistair slings an arm over his wifeâs shoulder, brings her ice cream close to his face and takes a chomp out of it. âMm. What are you two chatting about?â
âGet your own.â Kenya lovingly smacks him. âAnd itâs none of your business.â
He laughs, kisses her hand and returns to the conversation with Micheal. Theyâre arguing about whether Batman can hack computers.
My phone rings again.
I assume itâs mom, but a glance at the screen shows an international code. â501,â I mutter. âThatâs the country code for Belize.â Hiking to my feet, I excuse myself from the table and hurry outside to answer the call. âHello?â
âSunny, thereâs a huge problem. The shipping company is saying we didnât attach the bill of lading for the first shipment. I gave them the evidence that we did, but theyâre still insisting.â Her frantic voice makes my head spin. âThat shipment has the Phase One furniture in it. Itâs, like, the foundation of the design. We canât do anything without it.â
âFirst, you need to calm down. Did you speak to the shipping company?â
âI did, but theyâre saying itâs the Port of Belizeâs fault. Oh, itâs a mess.â
She complains some more and then ends the call. I massage my forehead. This problem doesnât sound like something I can untangle virtually.
A sigh builds in my chest and bellows out in a loud whoosh.
âIt canât be that bad.â
I turn and Darrel is there with his broad shoulders and his green eyes and his poker-face that gives nothing away. I want to wrap my arms around him. I want him to rub my hair and tell me I took on too much and what logical person would promise to tackle a project this size in only three months? I want to argue with him that I can do it and watch the sparkle in his eyes energize me and push me to test my own limits.
I missed him. He snuck into the cracks of my heart when I wasnât looking and now all the reasons I hated him before are the reasons I want to hold on.
âThereâs an emergency in Belize. Progress will screech to a halt if I donâtâ¦â
âIf you donât go and save the day?â
âRight.â
âWill you be gone for long?â
I hear the yearning in his words and hope that Iâm not imagining it. âIâll be back as soon as I sort everything out.â A tired laugh bursts from my lips. âAlthough I donât know how long thatâll be. I just left them this morning and thereâs already an emergency. Maybe forming this team wasnât the best idea.â
âYouâll figure it out,â he says confidently.
A smile touches my lips. âHow do you know?â
âBecause youâre Sunny Quetzal. You were born to be great.â
My heart skips a beat.
He looks down at me. âSunny, Iââ
âI know weâ¦â
Our words overlap.
I smile.
Darrelâs lips twitch.
âCan I go first?â
He gestures for me to speak.
âTwo weeks ago, I left without telling you.â The way my body leans toward him is beyond my control. Like all my muscles and bones and veins are straining to be as close to him as possible. âI donât like leaving things unsettled. Can we talk? When I get back?â
He nods.
My phone vibrates again. Itâs another call from Belize.
I huff out a breath. âI need to go.â
âBe safe.â
I take a step back, unwilling to look away from him. âCan you tell the kidsâ¦â
âIâve got it.â He juts his chin at the parking lot. âGo.â
I leave my heart at the ice cream shop. I feel the emptiness keenly when I catch a flight to Belize and watch the clouds through the airplane window.
When I arrive, the sun is still shining brightly overhead. Coconut trees welcome me back by waving their fronds. The humidity digs into my hair and makes sweat roll down my face. The people who stamp my passport look like me or look like someone Iâm related to. It should be home. And it is.
But itâs also not.
Because passing two little brown-skinned boys at play reminds me of Micheal and Bailey.
And the sprawling Caribbean Sea glittering beneath the boat that carries me to the private island reminds me of Darrel.
More than anything, I want to iron out the logistical issues so I can get back to them. Unfortunately, nothing goes to plan. Complication after complication pours in, smashing any hopes I have of returning in less than a week.
âAre you having fun?â Bailey asks during a video call one night. I have to raise the volume on the phone so I can hear him. Nocturnal creatures are belting out a song to the moon and mosquitoes are buzzing around the cabana.
I lift the phone higher so my face is at a better angle on the screen. âYeah, itâs a lot of fun. Itâs tough though. I wanted to be back home with you guys.â
âWill you be back for my birthday tomorrow?â
I bite down on my bottom lip. Things have been so hectic around the site that I forgot about Baileyâs birthday. Heâs been mentioning it in the group chat, dropping all kinds of emojis and gifs. How could I have forgotten?
Blinking rapidly, I stutter, âI-Iâm not sure, buddy.â
âOh.â His crestfallen expression is a slam to the gut.
âHow about this? When I come back, weâre going to have an epic celebration. Itâs almost like you get to have two birthdays instead of just one. Isnât that cool?â
âI guess.â He pouts.
âStop making her feel bad, you dork,â Micheal says in the background.
Baileyâs eyes narrow. âDonât call me a dork.â
âItâs what you are though.â
âBoys,â I keep my voice calm, âdonât fight. Especially in front of me. It makes me sad.â
Micheal clears his throat as he appears on screen. His solemn brown eyes peer at me. âWhen are you coming back? Mr. Darrel keeps trying to sneak into our group chat.â
âHe is?â I laugh.
âHe tries to bribe Bailey for pictures,â Micheal mumbles. âThe kidâs a weak link. Heâs always showing off.â
âI donât mind if he shows Darrel my pictures.â My smile widens as I imagine the surly therapist casually trading extra cups of ice cream for my photos.
âYou sure? You were pretty clear when you said you didnât want him in our group chat.â
âI didnât say that.â
âYou didnât add him.â Micheal shrugs. âWhat is that saying?â
I clear my throat. âArenât you eleven years old? Why do you sound like an old man?â
âMaybe because you and Mr. Darrel are acting like youâre younger than me.â He rolls his eyes. âHe brings you up at least twice a day, you know.â
I laugh. âDoes he?â
âYou do the same thing.â He hurls accusing eyes. âYou ask how Mr. Darrel is doing every time we talk. As if you donât have his number.â
I lick my suddenly dry lips. âWould you look at the time? Itâs late here in Belize, so that means you two are supposed to be getting ready for bed.â
âWeâve still got an hour, Sunny,â Bailey primly informs me.
âWell, itâs my bedtime then.â
âDonât you want to talk to Mr. Darrel?â Micheal asks.
Iâm not sure if heâs serious or if heâs just teasing me, but I freeze. âIs he around?â
âMr. Darrel!â Bailey grabs the phone and bounds out of the room. The footage on the screen turns shaky and blurry. Bailey enters Darrelâs office and shoves the phone at him. âTell Sunny goodnight. Sheâs going to sleep now.â
My heart flops in my ribs as I watch the emotions play over Darrelâs face. Itâs subtle, but Iâm so in-tuned to every flicker in his expression that I can read him now.
First, itâs surpriseâan upward jump of his eyebrow and a parting of his mouth. Then itâs happinessâthe curve of his lips and the softening of his eyes. Then a yearning that makes me sigh gently.
âSunny,â he breathes.
âSay goodnight!â Bailey yells, shaking the phone.
âGoodnight,â Darrel whispers.
Heat floods my stomach and I croak out a âgoodnightâ of my own before hanging up and staring at the ceiling.
The sound of Darrelâs voice follows me into my dreams, and I canât stop thinking about him as I go to work the next day.
âAlright, watch me while I fill out this ordering sheet,â I tell Anita, the beautiful dark-skinned local whoâll be managing the site for me. Weâre sitting on the beach, our documents held down by stones so the strong Caribbean wind doesnât tug them straight into the water. âNo matter what, youâre getting this today.â
âYouâre in a rush, Sunny,â she says in that delightful accent that I wish I hadnât lost. âWhere are you going?â
âHome.â I shake my hair out of my face. âNo matter what, Iâm going home today so I can at least catch the tail end of Baileyâs birthday.â
âYou miss your kids a lot, donât you?â
âHow do you know I have a family?â
âYouâre always calling them and snapping pictures of the view for them. Everybody calls them your imaginary friends because we never see them, but theyâre always with you.â
I shake my head and close my eyes. âIâve been away from them too long. Sometimes, I can even hear their voices.â
âSunny!â
âLike right now.â I inhale deeply. âI feel like I can hear Bailey calling my name.â
âUhâ¦â Anita draws away from me.
âSunny!â
âAnd that sounds like Micheal.â I rub my temple. Yeah, Iâm definitely booking a ticket home today. Iâm starting to go insane from missing them.
âSunny!â
Darrel. My bones turn to mush.
I miss him so much.
âSunny,â Anita shakes my shoulders and my eyes burst open, âI think you have some visitors.â
âWhat?â I spin.
And then I gasp.
And then I start to cry.
Because, on the beaches bordered by the Caribbean Sea, my little family is running to me.