Simon’s eyelids had flown open. “But we can see Mr. Adam before we leave, can’t we, Mom? I don’t want to go without telling him goodbye.”
Her chest ached. She didn’t want to make promises she couldn’t keep. If Adam had decided to relinquish parental rights, maybe it was best to start putting distance between him and Simon now, before Simon grew more attached. Before she grew more attached, despite her anger with him. “Mr. Adam isn’t a fan of goodbyes, sweetheart. If you don’t see him again, we’ll just remember how much fun you had with him, okay? I took lots of pictures at the fun center. You can look at them anytime you want.”
“It’s not the same,” he said, his lip quivering.
“No,” she agreed, lowering her voice to a soothing murmur. “It’s not the same. But happy memories are always the best souvenirs we take home from vacations. Every time you look back on this week, you can think of the fun you had while we were here. All the new friends you made and the things you learned. All the sand castles we built and the pretty shells we found. The good food we ate and the games we played. The sun and seagulls and the boat ride and the funny dolphins...”
She let the singsong words trail off into a whisper and then into silence when she saw that Simon had fallen asleep. His breathing was deep and even, his eyelashes dark against his cheeks. She thought the slightest frown still creased his forehead, but then he snuggled more deeply into the pillow, and his sweet face smoothed into blissful repose.
Careful not to jostle him, she stood, waiting there a moment to make sure he didn’t rouse, then turned to slip silently out of the room, leaving the door open a crack. She moved into her own room, then spent the next twenty minutes trying to hold back the tears she was afraid to release for fear of drowning in them.
Despite the occasional wistful sniffle, she’d never allowed herself to cry over Adam. She’d always told herself it would be foolish to grieve for a relationship that had never existed. Sure, there’d been the odd bout of tears during her pregnancy, but she’d written those off to nerves and hormones. Certainly not to missing the man she’d known for such a short time.
She wouldn’t cry now, though she had to dash impatiently at her eyes several times to put a stop to it. But it hurt. It hurt deeply that he seemed to be walking away again, even knowing everything now. He couldn’t claim ignorance this time, though he probably thought he was being noble again, acting in her and Simon’s best interests. That argument was even more groundless now than it had been before, though she wasn’t sure she could convince him of that even if he gave her the chance to try. He was so convinced he was destined to be alone, even to the point of believing it was what he wanted.
Maybe it was just as well, she told herself with a defiant lift of her chin. Maybe it was for the best that she’d been forced to confront the reality of trying to build a relationship, even a tenuous, long-distance one, with a man who wouldn’t make even the most basic commitment. Oh, he’d signed papers and set up accounts, made financial promises he would probably keep—but that was easy. Detached, impersonal, no emotional investment or risk involved. A way to assuage his conscience without limiting his freedom to take off whenever he wanted without any of those messy goodbyes.
She’d tried, she assured herself. She’d been willing to work wit
h him. To share the child she’d carried, nursed, taught, protected, loved with every fiber of her being. She’d been cautiously ready to trust him. And he’d shown her just how much pain and disappointment she courted—for herself and for Simon—in giving that trust to a man who wasn’t willing to accept it.
Fine. If this was what he wanted, so be it. She could accept that she’d done all she could to make up for the mistakes she’d made six years ago. She wouldn’t chase him, wouldn’t make any demands. Someday she would figure out how to tell Simon about him, but for now, they were perfectly fine without Adam Scott in their lives.
She just wished this psychologist knew how to heal her own heartache.
* * *
SATURDAY MORNING DAWNED with rain. Simon was dismayed at first, certain their last full day at the resort was ruined. He was reassured when Joanna checked the weather app on her phone and told him the rain was predicted to pass very quickly, probably in less than an hour.
“We’ll have a great time, I promise,” she said, determined not to let the weather or Adam or anything else interfere with this vacation with her son. Soon enough, they’d have to face the demands of a move, new job, new school, making a new life, new friends in a new town—but this week was a celebration of their little family. Their two-member immediate family, she silently amended even as she sent him to dress for a day of fun.
Maddie joined them for breakfast. The rain splashed soothingly against the windows as they ate and chatted, surrounded by other vacationers waiting for the sun’s return. Simon didn’t mention Adam, and neither did Joanna or Maddie. Still, Joanna had the feeling that his name hovered in the backs of all their minds.
“It’s almost stopped raining,” Simon announced, bouncing in his seat as he pointed to the windows.
“Yes, but it’s still a little wet,” Maddie answered. “How about I challenge you to a friendly game of air hockey in the arcade while we wait for the sun to do its job?”
Simon giggled. “You’re on!”
Joanna made a show of gazing upward and groaning. “Not again. You two go crazy whenever there’s an air hockey table in the room.”
Aunt and nephew grinned across the table at each other, and though they didn’t look much alike, the fierce heat of competition on their faces was unsettlingly similar.
Joanna shook her head.
Fifteen minutes later, the battle was on. Simon had to stand on a plastic stepstool to have full access to the table, but he didn’t let his size handicap him. He threw himself into the game with enthusiasm, whooping and cheering whenever he made a good shot, protesting noisily but being a good sport when a point was scored against him. Standing safely to one side of flailing arms, Joanna laughed and took pictures with her phone. She knew Simon would appreciate having this fun with his aunt memorialized in the photo book.
That photo book would also include pictures of Adam, she thought with a faint sigh. Simon would have too many questions if she didn’t add the ones she’d taken at the fun center. And maybe someday, after she’d found a way to explain the truth to him, he would want that reminder of the week he’d spent with his father. Maybe he’d see what she’d seen in those snapshots—the mixture of wonder and regret in Adam’s face when he’d smiled down at his son.
They’d made reservations for a horseback ride on the beach that afternoon, something Simon requested after hearing about the activity from one of his Explorers Club friends. Through the guest relations services, Joanna had asked for two horses, one for her and Simon, the other for Maddie. Children under eight were allowed to ride on buddy saddles behind an adult. She expressed concerns to the concierge that she didn’t have much experience on horseback, but she was assured the horses were gentle and the guides would take very good care of them.
After spending the remainder of the morning at the beach, followed by Simon’s promised shrimp basket lunch, they freshened up in their suites, then met Maddie in the Seafoam Lodge courtyard in preparation for the horseback outing. Joanna had Maddie and Simon pose in front of the pretty little koi pond. They smiled dutifully for her photos, then were distracted by the big, colorful fish swimming around the central fountain. Joanna kept shooting, capturing snaps of Simon pointing out his favorite fat yellow koi while Maddie laughingly prevented him from falling into the water in his eagerness.
She lowered her phone when someone touched her shoulder from behind. Thinking she was blocking another guest’s path, she murmured an apology and stepped aside, glancing around to make sure she was out of the way. She nearly dropped the phone when she saw who stood there.
Adam had returned.
CHAPTER TEN