Something told her that he was in her life to stay—she couldn’t imagine not seeing him again. And she could feel how good it was.
“Thank you for bringing me here,” she said as he placed her glass in front of her, filled it with wine, and took the lid off the shrimp cocktail.
“I’m glad I could show you this. I can’t believe you’ve never been out here to see the horses.” He popped a shrimp in his mouth and sat down across from her, the wind blowing his hair off his forehead.
“We always just visited Gladys at her cottage.”
“And Gladys is Olivia’s grandmother, right?”
“Yeah. I’m glad I spent so much time with Olivia’s family growing up.”
The sun was on Luke’s face, making him squint just a little as he looked at her, but those blue eyes were focused. She told him about her father leaving, about her mother, and how she wished things could be different between them. “My grandmother was the one who could sort of mediate between us. She knew my mother so well that whenever I struggled with the way she was, my grandmother could always help me understand her. It was rocky to begin with but when my grandma passed, my mother and I both just sort of fell apart and our relationship never really recovered.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“I think about calling my mom sometimes. I just don’t know what to say.”
He nodded.
She liked how he listened. Olivia and Gladys were wonderful at supporting her, they were great with her, but Luke didn’t try to help her. He just quietly let her talk, and his face told her everything she needed. He was right there, taking it all in, learning about her, and hearing her with no motive other than to just be. There were a lot of things she found attractive about Luke Sullivan, but this was deeper than anything she’d experienced with him, more than she’d experienced with anyone. She was falling fast and hard for this man.
Sixteen
After spending all day with Luke and then making the long trip home, it was late when Callie got back to the cottage, and Olivia and Wyatt were asleep. She closed the door quietly.
She and Luke had stayed at the beach until dusk, nearly eight-thirty in the evening, and he finally suggested that they go while he could still see the beach to get them home. She couldn’t deny having thought that she didn’t really care if she made it home; they could always use that blanket in the back. But she’d kept her head on her shoulders and helped him pack the things into the SUV, the painting staying up front with her. She didn’t want it out of her sight for a second because today was one of the best memories she’d made so far, and that artwork would always remind her of that.
Callie clicked on the light in her bedroom and leaned the painting against the wall, admiring its beauty. After surfing, packing the SUV, and the drive, she felt exhaustion setting in. She’d had a big day and she had a lot of work ahead of her tomorrow. After a quick shower, it was time to settle in to bed.
Her mind was going at warp speed, rehashing her night, questions filling her head one after another: questions about her mom, about her life, her feelings for Luke... With an uncomfortable huff, she turned over, pulling the blanket with her, and lay on her side, her eyes wide. She wanted to turn off her thoughts, but she couldn’t, so got up and clicked on the light. Normally, reading was how she settled her mind, but she had yet to buy a book, having not had any time to read since she’d gotten to The Beachcomber. She grabbed Alice’s journal. Maybe searching for information about Frederick would take her mind off everything.
Her eyes aching for sleep but her mind denying it, she opened up to the page where she’d stopped reading last and began.
What if this child doesn’t fit into his world? What if the child is supposed to be in our world, my world? I’m his aunt, for God’s sake, and he has no idea! This sweet baby boy has been taken from us—his family—stolen. If I allow myself to think about it, it tears me up. When I’m out, I look for him. In every stroller, in every shopping cart, on every street corner, I look, but I don’t run into him. I don’t get to see him grow up. And neither will Frederick. I don’t know how my brother can live with himself.
Baby boy? Callie stared at the black through her window, the journal only adding to the chaos in her head. With a pang of guilt, she shut the book, not feeling relaxed in the slightest by reading it. Callie set the journal down and turned off the light. In the darkness, she tried to relax and not think about anything except what she needed to get done tomorrow.
“This is beautiful,” Olivia said, holding Luke’s painting up. She leaned it against the wall and grabbed her coffee from the only side table in the room. “We should put it here in the family room. Where did you get it?”
“Luke painted it.”
Olivia’s eyes grew round as she cupped her mug with both hands. “Really?” She was standing in a T-shirt, her hair pulled off her face into a clip.
Callie nodded with a smile but she wasn’t thinking about the painting. She was thinking about yesterday. She caught herself as the back of her hand brushed her lips, reliving his kiss. She cleared her throat. “I like him,” she admitted.
With an excited smile, Olivia said, “I know you do. I can tell.” She set her coffee down. “I’m so excited for you!” She put her arms around Callie and gave her a squeeze.
“I more than like him, Olivia. He’s one of the greatest people I’ve met. He gets me and he’s kind and thoughtful.”
“I’m so glad that you’re admitting this to yourself. Feel it! Let the fireworks happen because they’re amazing.”
With a smile, Callie nodded. “You’re right.”
There was a knock interrupting their moment, and Olivia sent Callie to get it, scurrying upstairs to put on more clothes. But she was back down before Callie had even gotten to the door, having thrown on a pair of shorts, running her fingers through her hair. Callie grinned. She certainly seemed excited.
Aiden stood at the front door, a hard hat in one hand, his computer bag slung over his shoulder, and he was holding a white orchid in a small pot, wrapped in cellophane. “Oh my gosh, Aiden,” Olivia said as he handed it to her. “Orchids are my very favorite flower.”
“I remember,” he said with a grin. “You were the only college student I know who could actually keep plants alive. Most of us could hardly grow that plant that Joe had in the window. The half dead one. What was it?”
“A philodendron.” She laughed.
Callie knew how difficult orchids were to keep, yet somehow Olivia could do it. She watered them with three ice cubes once a week and she always knew the correct placement for proper light. Callie knew that because Olivia was her best friend. But what caught her attention was that Aiden had remembered it. All of a sudden she recalled how close he’d been to Olivia at the party, and his friendliness now definitely seemed like a little more.