SUNNY
Finding out the truth about Darrel yesterday made me realize two things: one, if anyone ever invents a time machine, I’ll be the first to volunteer so I can meet my high school self and slap her into the next century; and two, I don’t deserve good things.
It’s a sensation that presses around me when I wake up the next morning to a thousand likes on my blog, delicious coffee at my door and a text from Darrel telling me not to beat myself up about what happened in high school.
I know that in theory, I was young and stupid and easily manipulated. Eric was a little too eager to submit embarrassing footage of Darrel and help me organize the pep rally.
Looking back, I can see how clearly he was pulling the strings. I considered myself such a smart, untouchable figure and yet I was being taken for a ride without even realizing it. If the high school me knew that I’d eventually fall hard for the hoodie guy, I would have investigated those pictures a little more.
Idiot.
I press my forehead against a wall and moan. “Why were you such a fiend in high school, Sunny? Why couldn’t you have been nicer to people?”
My phone rings at that moment.
It’s my client.
I don’t want to answer, but I force myself to take the call and listen as the client gushes about my design concept.
“I’m glad you liked it,” I murmur dryly.
“We love it! Oh, your mother was so right about you, Sunny,” the client chirps. “I’m sure you’re going to make it big.”
I blink rapidly. My mind snaps into sharp focus. “Did you just say… my mother?”
“Yes, didn’t my husband tell you?” She laughs gently. “Of course he didn’t. He’s a man and he’s clueless. This is why I told him I’d liaison with you from now on. I can’t let him do anything on his own, you know.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Your mother was the one who recommended you to us.”
I nearly fall out of the chair. If she told me they’d found evidence of aliens living among us, it would have surprised me less. My mother doesn’t even believe that designing is a real job. I’m stunned that she’d talk about my work like it actually mattered.
“She overheard us chatting about our villa in Belize and we struck up a wonderful conversation. She knows all about Belize and we’re in love with the place. The country’s like a second home to us, so we knew it would be perfect for us to retire.”
“You’re retiring… in Belize?” My eyes widen. “The villa is in Belize? This job is in Belize?”
“Oh dear. My husband didn’t make that clear either? Yes, our villa is in Belize. The construction should be finished soon and we’re eager to get you started on the interior design.”
“You want me to go… there?” I picture the sandy beaches, turquoise waves, and coconut trees of Belize. It’s a beautiful country. It’s my homeland, but I didn’t expect to get a gig there.
“Yes, we’ll pay for everything, dear. Everything. Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried. I just… didn’t expect this.”
“My husband, that old hag, he’s not good with details. Here’s the thing, Sunny. Shipping furniture from the US to the Caribbean is such a headache. Dealing with transport and customs and pesky paperwork—oh, just thinking about it makes my greys pop out, you understand? That’s why I was hoping you’d be able to oversee all that.”
“Uh…”
“All I want is to hire you, sit back and then come home to see the amazing results.”
“Oh.”
“Is that a problem?”
“The thing is…” I think of Micheal, Bailey and Darrel, “I wasn’t planning on leaving the country any time soon.”
“You only work in the city?”
“No, that’s not… I mean, Belize is so far away.” Sure, I could be convinced to leave the city for a job. There are only so many people in need of my interior decorating services here. But flying all the way back to my homeland? To oversee a giant island villa from start to finish? That’ll take months.
“We understand. You must have a boyfriend, don’t you? Someone as pretty as you. But here’s the thing. If he really loves you, he won’t hold you back, hun. He’ll support you all the way. And it’s not like you’ll be gone for years.”
I swallow hard. “Thank you for considering me but—”
“We’d be so disappointed if you said no, Sunny. One of the reasons we chose you is because you’re from Belize. You look like one of the locals and they’ll treat you like one too. They won’t gouge you with inflated prices assuming you’re foreign and don’t understand how things work.” She laughs. “You’re perfect for this.”
“I-I have my best friend’s wedding in a couple days.”
“No worries. We have to arrange things on our end anyway. It’ll take at least a week. That should be enough time for you to prepare for the move, right?”
My heart thumps painfully. “Can I have a few more days to think about it?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Sunny. This opportunity isn’t going to stick around for long. We need to finalize some things so we can work out our own details, you know.”
“I understand. I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”
“Alright. You have forty-eight hours.” The client giggles. “That sounded quite strict, didn’t it? I just don’t want you to drag your feet and reject us. It’ll leave us in a bad spot.”
“I won’t do that. You’ll hear my answer by then.”
“Fabulous.” She hangs up.
I drop into the sofa so I can catch my breath. Of all the things I learned during that phone call, the hardest to believe is that my mother complimented my career path. Unbelievable.
I have to call her and let her know about this.
The phone rings for a long time and I wonder if mom is going to ignore me.
Finally, she answers. “Sunita.”
“Mom.” I lurch forward, sitting straight up in the chair as if she’s in the room telling me not to hunch so much. “Hey.”
“What do you want?” Her tone is impatient. It hasn’t been that long since she stormed out of my apartment. Of course she’s still upset about Darrel.
“I just got a call about designing a villa in Belize.”
“Hm.”
“I heard you were the one who recommended me.”
She falls silent.
“Mom?”
“Kenya told me you were going through a bit of trouble getting money that was owed to you. I got worried.”
“Aww…”
Mom clears her throat. “I wouldn’t have to worry so much if you’d put your Literature degree to good use. Teachers don’t have to scramble around getting clients because a big corporation stiffed them.”
There she goes. “Mom, every job comes with risks.”
“The risk is much bigger when you work for yourself.”
Her scolding isn’t mean-spirited. It’s just her way of showing love, and I’ll take it in the spirit that it was meant. “Thank you for recommending me to those clients, mama.”
“Thank me? For what? I just had a chat with a stranger. That’s all.” I hear fabric rustling. Mom is probably smoothing down her embroidered skirt, a nervous tic of hers. “Have you thought of what I said, Sunita?”
“About what?”
“That white boy.”
I cringe. It’s true that Darrel is white, but he’s definitely not a ‘boy’. It’s jarring to hear her call him that.
“Now would be the time to break up with him,” mom adds.
“Why would I do that?”
“You’ve gotten a wonderful opportunity to travel and do what you love at the same time.”
“Yes, but—”
“If you take the job in Belize, I can come with you and stay for a bit. We can visit your cousins and your great grandmother in the village. I’ll make sure they have some nice young men to introduce you to. My future son-in-law doesn’t even have to be a farmer if you’d prefer another profession.”
“Mom, I’m not going on any more blind dates.”
“Why not?”
“It would be disrespectful to Darrel.” My fingers curl over the phone. We were just having a moment. Why did mom have to ruin it with this ‘you must marry a Mayan man’ thing? “I’m not going to date other men while I’m seeing him.”
“Sunita, you have to think about your future.”
“I am.” My throat tightens. “All I can think about is the future.” Darrel Hastings is written in every tomorrow from here until I’m old and grey and even beyond that. He’s a poker-faced, rough-mouthed, sometimes grumpy, sometimes sweet, sometimes hilarious, extremely gorgeous human-sized drug.
The fact that he’s the hoodie guy from high school just endears him even more to me. I really wish I could have gotten to know the younger him. I really wish I could make up for that stupid prank.
“No, Sunita, you are not thinking about the future. You are thinking about that man’s broad shoulders and green eyes and his privates. You think I don’t know you?”
I gasp. Not because she’s wrong but because she’s my mother. “Mama, don’t say things like that.”
“Do you think he actually loves you?”
“I know he does.”
“Why? Because he says you’re pretty? Because you’re ‘different than any of the women he’s been with before’? Of course he would say that. You are Mayan. You come from a long line of powerful men and women. Of course these white men would be drawn to you, just as they were drawn to us when they colonized our lands.”
“Darrel isn’t going to ‘colonize’ me, mom. What we have is real.”
“Because you feel tingly and excited when he touches you? Please.” She snorts.
“Because he’s brilliant and kind and supportive. Because he has every reason to hate me but he doesn’t.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He’s the boy from high school, ma. The hoodie guy.”
“Ay-ya? Who is that now?”
My chest rises and falls with a harried breath. “Mom, remember when I got in trouble for interrupting a pep rally in high school, and I never told you why?”
“Yes.”
“I did something horrible to someone at the pep rally. That someone was Darrel.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am.” My voice climbs as I battle a mixture of gratitude and regret. “After all that, he’s still willing to see the person I am now. Isn’t it clear that he loves me, mama?”
“What’s clear is that he has a reason to get you back.” Mom’s voice is as thin as a leaking balloon.
“He forgave me, mama. He doesn’t hold it against me anymore. He’s a good man. The best man. He took in Micheal and Bailey all because of a promise he made to his professor. That’s the kind of person he is.”
“Honey, I know this is an emotional discovery, but I don’t want it to blind you to reality.”
“Blind me to what, mom?” My voice cracks as I erupt into slightly unhinged laughter. “That I don’t deserve Darrel? That he suffered at my hands, yet he’s willing to forgive me and love me? What part of this can’t you wrap your head around?” I yell.
“What if this is all just his revenge?”
Every muscle in my body goes still.
“You heard what he said that day. Darrel is the kind of boy who makes a promise and keeps it no matter how crazy it is. What if he made a promise all those years ago to get back at you?”
I scoff. “Have you been watching telenovelas again? Do you think real life is as wild as what you see on TV?”
“Honey, real life can be stranger than what’s on TV.”
“Darrel isn’t trying to get back at me.”
“Think about it. He could have been biding his time, waiting for the perfect chance. Perhaps he wants to bring you to the highest point of happiness and then he’s going to strike.”
I blink rapidly. That’s crazy. Darrel would never… he wouldn’t. Right? No. I trust him. He’s a good man.
“Mom, don’t be ridiculous,” I sputter. I grasp at any explanation that would soothe her and quiet the doubts she stirred inside me. “If that was Darrel’s revenge plan, he wouldn’t have waited an entire year to implement it. We ran into each other all the time because of Kenya, Alistair and Belle. He could have acted interested from the start, but he never did.”
“Maybe he’s been planning this for a long time and he was waiting for the right moment.”
“I’m going to hang up if you keep talking like this, mom.”
“Sunita, all I want is for you to not get hurt.”
“Darrel won’t hurt me.”
“Fine, maybe he won’t hurt you intentionally, but do you know what kids will do to your life? To all the opportunities you could have had? They’ll take over everything. Once you have a family, there’s no more taking off at the drop of a hat to pursue your dreams. You have to weigh everything against your responsibility to them. It’s a huge burden.”
“That’s my choice to make, isn’t it?”
“What if this was his plan all along? To pretend to be in love with you, saddle you with two children and force you to take care of them for him.”
“Mama!” She jumped all the way into Crazy Town and is making herself at home. “Would you stop talking nonsense?”
“Women are natural caregivers. You’re going to throw your all into pretending to be a mother to those kids just like you give your all to anything you do. He’s going to sit back, throw his legs up and let you work yourself into the ground. It’s diabolical.”
“We’re not getting anywhere. All I wanted to do was thank you for the referral. I’ve done that.”
“Sunita, promise me you’ll be careful. If you were so awful to him, why would he turn around and treat you well? He must want something from you.”
“Darrel isn’t trying to exact his revenge on me, mama. He cares about me.”
“You could be right. Or you could be wrong. He might not mean to ruin your life for what you did in the past, but it could still work out that way. How many single women would volunteer to take care of two kids in their first year of marriage? You won’t get to enjoy each other. You’ll always be stressed and worried about everyone but yourself. Your life will end, do you hear me? It’s something that not even mothers to biological children can sometimes handle. It’s not fair to you, Sunita. Think hard before you agree to anything with him.”
“I’ll call you later, mom,” I mumble.
Ten minutes. That was the length of our phone call and yet it feels like I’ve been running on a treadmill for a year. My limbs are heavy and my mind is spinning in random directions.
What if mom is right? What if Darrel’s been secretly plotting his revenge for years?
Ridiculous.
I pounce to my feet and pace the living room. I can’t let mom get to me.
Are you ready to be a mother to boys who are already heading into their tweens?
I shake my head and pace the other way. I love Micheal and Bailey. They’re good kids. And it’s not like Darrel is asking me to marry him. I can slowly get used to the idea of being a mother and figuring out how I’ll juggle my career and my home life. The boys are family. People make room, rearrange their schedules and compromise for family.
I force myself to settle down and update my blog. It’s been so busy with Darrel, the boys, and preparing for Kenya’s wedding that I haven’t shared with my followers in a while.
In the middle of my work, I get a call from Darrel.
My eyes widen and I snatch the phone up. “Hey,” I say before he can get a word in, “I was starting to get worried. You didn’t answer my text.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve been talking to a lawyer all morning.”
“A lawyer? Is something wrong?” I lean forward.
“It’s Micheal and Bailey. Their social worker wants them to stay with a foster family.”
“What?” I lurch forward.
Darrel’s voice cracks with weariness. “Sunny, I… I think there’s a real chance the boys will be taken away from me.”
I shove my purse off my shoulder and drum my fingers against the crowded office table.
When I walked into the government office a few minutes ago, the frazzled receptionist asked me if I had an appointment and then she pointed out Ms. Bennet’s cubicle and told me to wait there.
It’s been five minutes already. Plenty of time to observe the giant desk calendar, count the number of pens in her ‘Protect Children From Trafficking’ cup, and debate whether I should wake up her blank computer monitor by tapping the keyboard and mouse.
From all the crowded notes and appointments on her desk, I gather that Ms. Bennet works passionately to protect children. That’s good. The problem is that she’s stark crazy if she thinks what’s best in this case is tearing Micheal and Bailey away from Darrel.
Footsteps pound the tiles behind me and I glance around, stiffening when Ms. Bennet appears in the doorway of her cubicle.
She’s wearing a grey shirt that matches the grey in her hair. Her skirt is sharp with not a wrinkle in sight. Her lips remain in their perpetually down-turned state as if she couldn’t be bothered to even fake a smile at the sight of me.
I don’t want to smile either, but I do because she didn’t have to agree to this meeting. If she’d rejected me, I would have spent my afternoon camped outside the building, demanding an audience and making noise until security carried me away.
“What was your name again?” She sinks wearily behind the desk. The chair creaks, protesting the sudden burden.
“Sunny Quetzal.” I’d offer her a business card if I carried those around anymore.
“And you’re here to discuss…” She rubs the bridge of her nose with one hand and sets the other on top of her mouse. Shaking it twice, she types on her computer.
“Micheal and Bailey.”
The exhaustion on her face gives way to a glint of defiance. “You? How are you involved with those boys?”
“I’m…” I falter because I didn’t quite think this far. “I’m a family friend,” I stutter.
“A family friend?”
“Yes.”
Ms. Bennet sucks in a sharp breath and flings her eyes to the ceiling as if she’s looking for some patience. “Ms. Quetzal, I’m incredibly busy today and I don’t have time to—”
“What do you have against Darrel Hastings?”
She clamps her mouth shut and stares at me.
I don’t look away. Leaning forward, I speak low and firm. “I’m not familiar with your line of work, but I do know there are far more children in need than there are families willing to take them in. Darrel is a man with solid references, an amazing farmhouse, stable income and the blessing of Micheal and Bailey’s grandmother. I heard Ms. Jean wanted him to take care of them. Not just for today. Not just for a week. For life. Darrel’s willing to make that commitment and yet you seem hellbent on fighting some kind of invisible battle against him.”
“An invisible battle, you say?”
“I have no idea what your personal grievance is. Maybe Darrel’s father dumped you in high school. I don’t know.”
She barks out a laugh.
I ignore it and forge on. “I’m asking you to do what’s right for these kids.”
“And you think I’m not?”
“I think you’re letting your own bias complicate a situation that is very straightforward. Just because you have the power to make Bailey and Micheal’s lives more difficult does not mean you should do it.”
Ms. Bennet folds her arms over her generous chest. “Are you done?”
“Not even close, but I’m willing to listen if you have something to say.”
Her smile is hard and it tells me she’s not amused.
Fine. Neither am I.
“How much do you know about Mr. Hastings?” Ms. Bennet asks, sliding her fingers together and setting them on her desk.
I have no idea where she’s going with this, but I mimic her stance. Folding my hands together, I set them on the desk and lean forward. “Enough to know that he’s a great dad to these kids.”
“I’m going to break this down for you because I’m not sure if those pro-Hastings glasses you’re wearing will keep you from understanding me.”
I scoff at the dig.
“Before any social worker is comfortable with officiating a guardianship, they do several checks for placement. We check their medical report, their previous employer, their previous long-term partners. We also check their parents.”
“And?”
“Major Benedict Hastings.” She tilts her head and arches an eyebrow. “Decorated army soldier. Celebrated vet.” Ms. Bennet digs through her files and slaps something in front of me.
I refuse to touch it. “What is this?”
“These are the overindulgence and excessive use of violence cases that were covered up by the Hastings family.”
My heartbeat pounds in my chest.
“The little secret about the Major treating people like crap went with him to the grave. Not because his victims didn’t try to come forward but because the Hastings family had all the money in the world to protect their status in public.”
My fingers are trembling and I shove the file back to her. “Did Darrel participate in these illegal bribes?”
“There’s no… evidence of that.” She screws her mouth like she really wishes there was.
“Then I don’t see what this has to do with keeping custody of Micheal and Bailey.”
“This, Ms. Quetzal,” she sprawls her fingers over the document, “is proof that the truth can be manipulated if there’s enough money. This is proof that mistreatment was shoved under the rug and accepted by that family. Not only does Mr. Hastings have his mother’s inheritance fattening his bank account, but he also had a thriving career in finance before he randomly chose to change paths.”
“Being rich is not a crime,” I argue.
“Yes, but it does make you wonder. Why would a man with that kind of wealth and power want to take in kids that are not even mildly related to him? And what will he do to those kids given the example his father set? Will those kids be safe in a family that thinks the truth has a price tag?”
“You’re grasping at straws.”
“I’m pursuing the truth.”
“The truth is that Darrel is keeping his promise to a dead man.” My words hold the heat of a thousand suns. “After his professor died, he could have easily said ‘screw this. No one is alive to force me to keep my promise’. Guess what? He did the opposite. He was there for the professor’s mother and the professor’s kids all because of that one promise. A man like that doesn’t deserve your conspiracy theories. He deserves your respect.”
“Respect is earned, Ms. Quetzal. And I’m not convinced of Mr. Hastings’ intentions. The truth of the matter is that he’s a bachelor, which is already a count against him. Given the other evidence I’ve dug up, I don’t think he’s ready for this responsibility.”
“Then why grant him emergency guardianship if you think he’s such scum?”
Her eyes dart away. “I didn’t want to separate the boys. They’d been through another traumatic loss and I felt they were better off together than sent to different group homes.”
“So leave them with Darrel. The boys are happy there and that’s partly your fault. You agreed to the emergency guardianship and now Darrel is attached to them. Just leave them be.”
“I’m not going to do that.”
“That’s what it comes down to, isn’t it? You don’t care that he’s rich or that his father was a prick. You don’t really care that he’s a bachelor either. You just don’t like him.” I throw my hands up. “How can they have someone so jaded sitting behind that desk? You bring your bias to everything you touch and now the kids are going to suffer for it.”
“Lower your voice, Ms. Quetzal,” she snaps.
I snap my mouth closed, but my nostrils are flaring and I’m battling the urge to swipe everything off her desk.
Ms. Bennet raises her chin. “I’m not sorry that I’m fighting to protect Micheal and Bailey. I’m not sorry that I, personally, prefer a household where both a mother and a father are present. Where the husband doesn’t have a history of making rash decisions at random. Where the support consists of more than a brother-in-law and a few distant relatives.”
I grab my purse and launch out of my seat. “This is not the last you’ve seen of me, Ms. Bennet. Darrel and I will be bringing this case to the attention of those above you.”
“Oh, I’m sure Mr. Hastings will use all his money and connections to twist the circumstances into his favor.”
I huff and whirl around, intending to storm out.
“I’d advise you to be careful, Ms. Quetzal.”
I blow out a stunned breath and turn to face her slowly. “Are you threatening me?”
“No, consider this some… sisterly advice.”
“You are not my sister.”
Her smile is amused, like she’s a teacher with a tantrum-throwing student. “I can see that you’re very much in love with Mr. Hastings. Even if you weren’t here to defend him, I’d know. It’s all over your face.” She licks her lips slowly. “Whether Mr. Hastings shares your passionate feelings is something I can’t say, but I do know that a man like him is willing to do anything to get what he wants. And he might use your love for him and for the boys, to manipulate you in ways you wouldn’t expect.”
I want to flip her off so badly that my fingers jump. Curse words launch to the tip of my tongue and I’m pretty sure steam is pouring from my ears.
“Desperate men are not afraid to use the love of a woman to achieve their own goals, but once they have what they want, they rarely remain devoted. Remember that.”
I squeeze the strap of my purse. “And remember this. I’ll make sure your boss hears about how prejudiced you are. Don’t be surprised if you’re removed from this position.”
“You can fight me. Go ahead.” She taps on her computer with a shrug. “But I wish you luck.”
I storm out of her office because if I remain in that cubicle for one second longer, I’m going to turn her desk over and stomp on her stupid calendar.
The door crashes as I march outside. I nearly stab myself in the eyeball when I try to put my sunglasses on with my trembling fingers.
In the car, I pluck my cell phone out of my purse and call Darrel. The phone rings and I tap my fingers on the steering wheel, already frustrated. If he doesn’t pick up, I’m driving to where he is and dragging him out.
Thankfully, it doesn’t get that drastic.
“We need to talk,” I blurt.
“Now? Sunny, I’m with the lawyer outside—”
“I just talked to Bennet.”
He pauses. “Is anyone… hurt?”
His hesitant tone makes a smile pop out on my face. “I thought about it, but I kept my hands to myself.”
“Good.” He lets out a breath. “The last thing I need is a social worker pressing charges against my girlfriend.”
My heart skips a beat. “Girlfriend?”
Someone whispers to him in the background. Darrel must have shushed them because they stop talking immediately. “What did you think this was?”
“I’m not getting distracted.”
“Of course not.”
“I want someone else to handle the placement of the kids. Bennet’s already decided to screw you over.”
“I’m handling it.”
“How?”
“I have Ms. Jean’s letter of intent. That should count as evidence to prove that staying with me is what’s best for the boys.”
“Will that be enough?”
The lawyer is trying to get Darrel’s attention again. I hear his words a little more clearly this time. ‘We have to go in now.’
“Just give me a minute,” Darrel says to him.
Guilt spears me. “I’m sorry. You’re dealing with this in your own way and I’m here stressing you out.”
“You’re not, Sunny. In fact, you’re doing the opposite. It feels good to know that you’re on my side, fighting with me. Although I wish you wouldn’t go toe-to-toe with anyone until we figure this out.”
“I promise I won’t beat anyone with my purse until the boys are safely and legally a part of your family.”
He lets out a breath. “Not gonna lie. I was nervous before you called.”
“Don’t be nervous. Just be honest. You are the best thing for those kids.”
“Thanks.”
“Go to your meeting. And then stop by my apartment the minute you have a free moment. I set beans last night so I’ll make you a big Belizean lunch. You can tell me what the plan is going forward.”
He chuckles. “I love you.”
I smile and open my mouth to say the same, but I remember the job offer from the client and I stop short. We’ll need you to go to Belize and handle everything from there. It’ll be a few months.
Darrel hangs up while I’m hesitating. I listen to the dial tone and feel my heart pull in a million different directions. This is not the right time to bail on Darrel, Micheal and Bailey. They need me here.
But what about what you need?
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Your whole life will revolve around that family. Do you want that, Sunita?
There will be other opportunities. It’s not like a paid trip to Belize to do what I love is such a big deal.
My fingers tighten on the steering wheel as I wrestle with myself. The truth is that I shouldn’t be having all these doubts. If I’m going to be a permanent part of Micheal and Bailey’s lives, I have to learn to put them first. Prioritizing them should be easy. It should be like breathing.
It’s not like breathing.
I bite down on my bottom lip and start the car. The client gave me forty-eight hours to figure myself out and give her an answer. That means I can worry about the job in Belize later. Right now, I’m going to focus on what I can control, which is working on my design concepts and waiting for Darrel to come home.
