“Are you sure you want to go swimming?” I asked August. “Because I know this ice cream spot on the beach and—”
“Ice cream!” He jumped. “I want ice cream.”
“Probably should have asked you first,” I told Clara.
She waved it off. “I never say no to ice cream.”
“Neither do I.” I grinned as we all climbed into the car and set off down the road.
Even for a Sunday evening, the beach was full of people walking. The line at the ice cream hut was twenty deep. We debated the best flavor as we waited our turn to get waffle cones and set out for an evening stroll across the sand.
August ate his kid’s cone faster than I’d ever seen a human consume ice cream before. Then he looked to his mother for permission to chase the seagulls.
“Not too far, okay?”
“Okay.” He handed her a wadded-up, sticky napkin, then took off running.
“Maybe he’ll burn off some sugar before bed.” She frowned at the napkin, then shoved it into a pocket of her shorts.
August chased a bird, then spun around and raced toward us, only to turn around and find another distraction. But he stayed within shouting distance.
“It’s your turn,” I said as we settled into an easy pace. “How was Vegas?”
“Vegas was exciting. For a time. Aria hated it. She only lasted a month.”
My footsteps stuttered. “You were there alone?”
I should have gone with her. Son of a bitch. I should have gone to Vegas. But never, in my wildest dreams, had I imagined Aria would leave her sister. And vice versa. Those two did everything together.
“Sort of.” She shrugged. “But I was busy. I got my GED. A driver’s license. We found an apartment in a not-so-great neighborhood, but the rent was cheap enough for me to afford on my own. I worked hard and things fell into place. Aria did the same, just in Oregon. We talked on the phone a few times a day. So not really alone, but on my own—if the difference makes sense.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. It made sense. But I still didn’t like it.
She shouldn’t have been alone. Clearly, she’d survived and thrived but that was not what I’d wanted for her. Clara was tough, but she’d had it hard enough.
“How’d you come to work for Brody?” I asked.
“Aria went into hospitality. There were so many hotels with tons of jobs to choose from and the pay was better than anything we’d had before. I didn’t want to clean rooms, so I waited tables to start with until I got my GED. Not long after, Brody’s company, Carmichael Communications, hired me as a receptionist.”
I could see her doing that, being the smile that greeted people when they walked through a door. A damn fine greeting.
“I didn’t start working for Brody right away,” she said. “I sat at the front desk for a while and as new positions opened up, I’d apply. Then when Brody’s personal assistant quit, I put my name in for that too. I’ve been working for him ever since. When he decided to move from Vegas to Arizona, he asked me to come along. It was time for a change, so that’s where we’ve been since.”
“Ah.” I nodded. “And that’s how Aria met him?”
“Yes, but they hated each other.” She laughed. “Last year, I was supposed to go to a wedding as Brody’s plus-one, but I got this nasty cold, so Aria went in my place. It wasn’t until then that they’d managed a civil conversation. Even afterward, things were dicey for a while. But the baby brought them together. Trace. They just named him the other day.”
“Trace. Cool name.”
August came racing in our direction with a shell in his hand. He held it up, just long enough to get a smile and a wave from Clara, then he tucked it into the pocket of his shorts and raced away.
“He turns six next month. I feel like I woke up one day and he was this little boy. My baby vanished before my eyes.”
“And his father?”
Clara took a few steps, not answering. Her shoulders were stiff. Her smile gone.
“Forget it. I’m prying.”
“No, it’s just . . . it didn’t work out. He’s not involved in August’s life and I prefer it that way.”
What the hell? When? I opened my mouth to tell her never mind, I was going to pry, but she took off, jogging to catch up to August.
Well, shit.
For most people, I would have let it go. It wasn’t any of my business. But this was Clara. Years apart, and she was still . . . mine. My business.
I hustled to catch up, and now that Clara was with August, her smile had returned, as gorgeous as ever.
She bent to inspect another shell, then when she spotted me, gestured to the parking lot. “Let’s head back. Maybe you can still get some swimming in, bud.”
“Yes.” He fist pumped and ran in the direction of the car.
“I’m sorry,” I said as we walked.
“It’s fine.” She waved it off. “It’s in the past. As long as August is happy, I’m happy.”
“He’s a good kid. You’re a good mom.”
She looked up at me and smiled. “Thanks. That means a lot.”
I nudged her elbow with mine. “It’s good to see you.”
“Same here.” A lock of hair flew into her face.
Instead of tucking it behind an ear like I wanted to, I shoved my hands in my pockets. “I get you tomorrow, right?”
She nodded. “Our schedule is wide open.”
“Good.” The back of my hand brushed against hers, and for a second, I nearly took her hand.
She hadn’t hugged me today. She used to hug. A jolt of electricity zinged to my elbow. Maybe it was the waves, but I swore I heard her breath hitch.
I inched away. I put space between us and did my best not to think of the last time I’d touched Clara.
It had been the night before we’d left the junkyard. She’d been in my arms after we’d had sex. There’d been no fumbling touches like our first time. There’d been no fear or worry. We’d come together like two people who’d been lovers for years, not a day.
A night I’d never forget.
“August!” she called, waving him back to us.
Yeah. Let’s keep August here. Maybe with the kid close, these very intimate, very sexual, very naked thoughts about his mother would stop.
Christ, I was a fucking asshole.
“You should take the Cadillac,” I said as we hit the lot. “Keep it while you’re here.”
“You don’t mind?”
I shook my head. “Not at all. Still doesn’t feel like my car.”
“Okay. Thanks. That will make life a little easier for us to get around town tomorrow.”
We all climbed in the car and I aimed us toward my house. “I’ve got some work to do tomorrow, but if you’re up for it, I’d like to see you again for dinner. Chips and salsa?”
“We’re up for it.”
“And swimming in the ocean,” August said.
Clara laughed. “You got it, bud.”
The drive to my place was short, too short. The day had gone by too fast. I had this niggling fear that once Clara left California, I wouldn’t see her again.
For years, I’d held on to hope that since she hadn’t said the word goodbye, it hadn’t been goodbye. Even after I’d looked her up and seen her with him. Foolish hope had stuck to me like grains of sand between my toes.