He turned back to Jax. “And you’re an artist?”
Jax had taken a drink of water, so it gave Calli a moment to jump in before he could answer. She was puzzled as they’d never talked about her boys. “How’d you know that?”
“When I was waiting for you that night after . . . well, you know . . . I noticed a couple of paintings in your hall signed Jax.”
Running his fingers through the sweat dripping from the water glass, Jax said, “I guess. At least I hope to be one day.”
“Nonsense,” said Calli. “You’re super-talented. He won three prizes in the school art expo and has published two graphic novels with a third in the works. Modest is what he really is.”
Jax tucked his hair behind an ear as his cheeks pinkened.
“That is impressive. I’ll have to see the graphic novels, but the paintings were very good,” said Dom. “What are you planning to do after school?”
“I’m going to study graphic design,” Jax answered. “But it’d be awesome if I could do something like movie special effects.”
“That sounds like tons of fun!” Dom turned his attention to Kent. “What do you like to do?”
Calli caught the flick of Kent’s eyes toward her and hoped he wouldn’t say what she thought he would. The kid was dead set on being a professional video gamer—yeah, he said he wanted to develop video games, but he’d never taken any initiative to start learning how. Calli had had conversations with many other parents over the years, and so many of them had children who wanted to be in the gaming industry. So many of them had kids who found ways to learn how to code on their own. So many of them had kids who’d received scholarships to colleges in Washington or California to focus on various aspects of gaming. Kent only played, and he’d play for hours without eating and only rushing to the bathroom at the last possible minute before losing control. She hoped desperately that he’d show some interest outside of playing, had worked with his school social worker to develop his career goals, had urged him to look at something a bit less competitive, but he kept coming back to the same thing.
“I want to be a game tester or programmer,” he mumbled.
Calli remained silent.
“That sounds like fun, too,” said Dom.
The waitress stopped by and took their drink orders, then they all opened their menus and read quietly. Calli’s stomach growled, and they shared a small giggle over the sound. Dinner, no matter what it was, would taste like heaven.
Dom
Dom paid for the meal, and as they were leaving, he called the boys aside. “Would the two of you mind terribly if I were to send you back to the hotel and take your mother out for dessert? I have some explaining—and quite a bit of apologizing—to do.”
Kent said hesitantly, “Suuure.”
Jax turned so his back was to his mother and said, “She’s been really down since Dad got the DUI. She’s also been really quiet, and I’m guessing that has something to do with you.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
Dom pressed his lips into a tight line, guilt curdling in his gut. But at the same time, he was impressed with the young man who stood before him, trying to protect such a wonderful woman. “I was wrong in not being there for her. I won’t give you any excuses, but I will vow that it won’t happen again.”
Jax seemed reluctant to let them go, but he nodded and went to Calli. Dom didn’t hear what he asked but assumed he was making sure it was what she wanted too. They hugged, Calli wrapping her arms around Jax’s waist and resting her head in the curve of his shoulder. Dom wished he had a camera at the ready to take a picture . . . the image would surely be memorable, perhaps even iconic. It reminded him of the better times with his own mother before . . . He shoved his hands into his pockets. He’d have to settle for the memory.
As the boys settled into the limo, Dom watched Calli in the soft cream-colored sundress with blue flowers from her knees to the ground. The lines of the dress hugged her curves just perfectly, and he yearned to pull her into his arms. But he would wait. He went to the valet desk and asked the attendant to call another limo. Once settled inside, he instructed the driver to Disney’s Polynesian Village Resort.
As they exited the limo, Dom tipped the driver, smiled, and took Calli’s hand. She looked at him with puzzled, raised brows. “When are we going to sit and talk?”
He turned back to her, pressing his body to hers, and put a finger over her mouth. “Shortly.” Removing his hand, he leaned down and placed a light kiss where his finger had been. He led the way to the walk at the end of the parking area, then turned between the Tonga and Aotearoa buildings, heading for the marina and the beach beyond. When he reached the sand, he removed his shoes and had Calli do the same. Holding his shoes in one hand, he took hers with the other, and they walked along the sandy beach toward his bungalow. He crossed the first walkway and continued on the sand to the second where he lifted Calli onto the walk and lingered, holding her around the hips as she looked down on him with her rich chocolaty eyes. Reluctantly, he pulled away and climbed onto the walk himself, then pointed to the bungalow furthest out over the lake.
He entered first and turned to watch Calli’s awe and small gasp as she entered behind him with wide eyes.
“This place is amazing,” she said. “It must cost a fortune.”
“It’s quiet and private. My favorite place here at Disney.”
“And you come here so often?”
He quirked a brow. “I’ve been here a time or two. It’s not quite Tahiti or Fiji but has a similar feel. Come on.” He led the way through the bungalow to the patio over the lake. Lights shone from the resort across the lake, and he could just make out the glow of Magic Kingdom beyond. The night was filled with cicadas and frogs singing to the stars. He indicated the hanging chairs, and Calli took a seat. He took the other and faced her, bringing them as close together as possible. “Now, we can talk.”
Calli held up a hand to his cheek, searching his face. He couldn’t resist the temptation and leaned forward, tasting her sweet lips. But he fought his urges and pulled away, resting his forehead against hers.
“I’m sorry,” he said, then laughed. “I sound like a broken record, but I am so very sorry.”
“I am too,” she answered softly.
He snapped his eyes to hers—questioning. What could she have to be sorry for? He was the one who’d run like a scared child. “You didn’t do anything to apologize for.”
“I did. You kept begging me to trust you, and I didn’t. Had I told you about my divorce and the boys before, this may not have happened.”
Dom smiled. “You don’t need to be sorry for that. I can understand why you didn’t tell me about what must have been a very painful experience. And I did run after all, right?”
Calli dropped her hand. “I have to ask, though . . . Pauline?”
Dom growled in frustration. “Yeah, I need to apologize for that. I guess I led her on a little.”
Calli pulled back, face wide with shock.
“Oh, not like that. I invited her to Thanksgiving at Moretti’s with Joe and his wife, and she thought it meant more than friends.”