SUNNY
“That’s a pristine Persian rug. If a drop of water so much as touches a bristle, I’m going to send it right back and demand compensation from the shipping company. Do you understand?”
“Don’t worry, Ms. Quetzal. We’re the best in the business. We’ll handle everything.”
I slide my sunglasses to the top of my head. “I’m counting on you.”
After hanging up, I drag the sun visor down. In the tiny mirror, I push out my lips, apply another coat of gloss and fix my collar.
I’m wearing a pinstripe jumpsuit with flowy trouser legs and an oversized jacket. My heels are six inches tall because I’m prepared to tear them off and use them as weapons if need be. And my hair is pulled back in a high ponytail.
Just breathe, Sunny.
My hands shake slightly when I grab my purse and step out into the sunshine. The courthouse looms in front of me, big and intimidating.
I take more sharp breaths and mount the stairs, ignoring the men who stop and watch me as if I’m Elle Woods in a pink tiara in the middle of Harvard Law School. Have you never seen a woman before?
Thankfully, no one approaches me and I’m spared from having to throat-punch anyone who makes me even later than I already am.
My heels click on the tiles as I hurry down the hallway, trying to find the right room. What was it again? Frantically, I fish around my purse for my cell phone and navigate to the message Dina sent me.
Before I can locate the text, I hear a familiar voice cry, “But I wasn’t planning on saying anything.”
My eyes widen. Micheal?
I sprint toward the sound, my heart slamming against my ribs. Turning the corner, I skid to a stop when I see Ms. Bennet hovering over Micheal, her lips pursed and her hand on his shoulder.
I want to smack her arm away from him, but I remove my sunglasses from my head and neatly tap it against my palm instead. My heels tap-tap-tap loud enough that both Bennet and Micheal look up.
The little boy notices me first and his eyes brighten like a Belizean sunrise. “Sunny!”
“Sh.” I place a finger to my lips. “Court’s in session.”
“Sorry.” He hangs back.
I crouch to his eye level and spread my arms out. “Come here.”
He grins, sprints toward me and wraps his arms around my waist. He’s wearing a black shirt with a Batman symbol. His jeans don’t even look ironed. What has Darrel been doing.
I press a kiss to his curly hair. He smells like baby shampoo and a little sweat. Not that I blame him. It’s hot out here. I might have to ditch my jacket. Even if it goes well with my outfit, I’m not about to stink up my Valentino just to impress… someone.
“Let me look at you,” I coo. Sandwiching his chubby cheeks between my hands, I smile. “You’ve gotten taller, haven’t you?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Something’s different. I can tell.”
“Nothing’s different. You just haven’t seen me in a while.”
“You’re right.” I purse my lips because I really have missed them. “It’s been too long.”
“What are you doing here?” Micheal steps back. Brown eyes widen slowly. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Belize? Did you come back for good?”
I laugh and nod. “I still have to fly back and forth a few days a month to oversee some things on the island but, yes. You can say I’m back for good.”
“Sweet.”
Definitely sweet.
As I stare at Micheal’s pale face, my mind drifts to the conversation I had with the client the morning after Kenya and Alistair’s wedding.
“What will it be? Are you giving up this opportunity or will you say yes to the best offer of your life?”
“I’m going to make you a counteroffer.”
She laughs. “That’s unexpected. I’m intrigued.”
“You’re right to choose me for this project. I’m a damn good designer and I can handle overseeing all aspects of the interior decorating—from ordering the furniture to shipping it to Belize and moving it to the island.”
“Okay…”
“But I can’t disappear for six months. I have important people here. People who need me. I’m not prepared to abandon them for this job.”
“Hm.”
“So here’s what I propose. I’m willing to manage this project. You won’t have to lift a single finger or work out any kinks. We’ll stay within the budget and deliver exactly what you want. In exchange, I want to work from home.”
“Can you do it all from so far away?” She sounds worried.
“Not alone. That’s why, for the next two weeks, I’ll go to Belize, get familiar with the process, and pick a team that I’ll oversee virtually. That team will be my hands and feet.”
“I don’t know.”
“In exchange for putting your trust in me, I’ll work to cut the project time in half.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” I lean forward. “Barring any unforeseen shipping disasters, your villa will be ready in three months.”
“That’s a very ambitious goal. You don’t know how unpredictable shipping internationally will be.”
“And you don’t know how determined I can be when I put my mind to something. Do you really want to give up an opportunity like this?”
She laughs. “I didn’t know you were such a negotiator, Sunny. I’m impressed.”
“I want this job, but I don’t want to give up anything to have it.”
She laughs. “I like a woman with gumption. Fine. It’s a deal.”
The past two weeks have been a blur. I hit the ground running the moment I arrived at the Belize City airport, working like a madwoman to form a team and create an efficient shipping process.
It was tough. Fourteen days of non-stop work, little sleep, and haggling with locals wore my body down. However, I was desperate to get everything squared off within that specific timeframe.
Why?
Because those were the two weeks Micheal and Bailey would be staying with Darrel for sure. After the court hearing, the boys could be lost to me. I didn’t want them to disappear without seeing me again.
Ms. Bennet steps forward, her sensible pumps entering my field of vision. I lift my head, drawing a line from her tight socks, her scraggly knees, her long skirt, tucked-in blouse and all the way to her disapproving stare.
I pull Micheal closer to my side and give her a stiff nod. “Ms. Bennet.”
“Ms. Quetzal.”
“Should you be out here? Aren’t you supposed to be in court?”
“I have a representative inside.”
“I see.”
We both assess each other.
I tilt my head. “Since you’re out here, I’m assuming you already made your remarks?”
“I did.”
“I bet it was riveting.” There shouldn’t be so much sarcasm in a court of law, but I can’t help myself.
“I only told the judge the truth. I’ve inspected the home environment and decided it’s not the right fit.”
“Based on what?”
“Common sense and caution. Men are disproportionately responsible for the neglect and abuse of children. I’m sure I don’t need to spell it out to you.” She frowns. “It is our responsibility, as guardians of innocent children, to be careful. There are some things we just can’t allow.”
My fingers clench into fists, but I force myself not to react too visibly to her words. Instead, I squeeze Micheal’s hand and look into his tiny face. “We’re not on opposite sides of this fight.” Glancing up, I meet Ms. Bennet’s stare. “You want to help these boys and keep them safe. You want it desperately. So do I. We just differ on the ways of going about that.”
She laughs. “That’s a very different tune than the one you were singing when you barged into my office and threatened my job, Ms. Quetzal.”
“Was that an office? It felt more like a cubicle.”
She glares at me.
I glare back.
So much for trying to offer an olive branch.
“I recently learned that you and Mr. Hastings are… involved.” Ms. Bennet glances at Micheal. She lifts her lips in a smile, but her eyes remain hard. “How can I expect you to think objectively when you’re too busy trying to please him?”
My smile is cruel. The Sunny from high school rears its’ ugly head because the situation calls for it. “Do you want to throw those stones, Ms. Bennet?”
“Excuse me?”
“I recently learned that you and Major Hastings dated in high school. Major Hastings is, of course, Darrel’s late father.”
Her eyes widen and her jaw goes slack.
I hold her stare, my chin rising incrementally. Ms. Bennet’s dislike of Darrel felt so personal that I had to investigate further. On my downtime, I did some digging into her background, found an old high school mate of hers and learned about her relationship with Major Hastings. The contact sent me pictures of their yearbook, proving that Ms. Bennet and Major Hastings were an official couple all those years ago.
I arch an eyebrow. “Could that be why you have such an issue with his son?”
Her mouth opens and closes like a fish gaping for air.
“Look, I think you dodged a bullet, so I’m hoping genuinely that you’re not still caught up on a man who’s long gone.” I step closer to her. “But if you’re trying to punish Darrel for the sins his father committed, I suggest you rethink your motivations while I still have a modicum of respect for your mission. The people who exact personal revenge under the guise of helping innocent children are the ones who make me sick.”
She stumbles back, a hand to her chest and her eyes darting all over.
I stare her down, waiting for her to try and defend herself.
She avoids eye contact and smacks her mouth shut.
Should have done that a long time ago.
The door of the courtroom creaks open, shattering the tension.
A clerk pokes his head out. “Micheal, ah, there you are. Have you decided if you’re going to speak yet?”
“No.” Micheal stares at the ground.
“Why are you pressuring him?” I ask, ready to go full mama-mode.
The clerk frowns. “Ms. Bennet said she wanted to ask him questions before the judge.”
Of course she does. I’m sure those questions would be twisted in a way to make Darrel seem like an awful parent.
Micheal shakes his head. “I don’t want to go up there, Sunny. Do I have to?”
“No, you don’t.” I lift my chin. “He doesn’t want to do it.”
The clerk casts a look at Ms. Bennet.
I turn and stare at her too.
She glances away. “I don’t have any further questions.”
I lead Micheal toward the clerk. “Look at that. It turns out you don’t have to go up there at all.”
“Then why are we going back in?”
“We’ll just sit and listen, okay?”
“Do you think I should say something?”
“It’s up to you.” I squeeze his hand. “All I know is that whatever happens, Mr. Darrel and I will always be in your life. Nothing they say today will change how much we care about you.”
I escort him into the room. It’s surprisingly small and drab. The judge is pale and thin-faced with a hook nose and auburn hair. Her sharp eyes seem to take in every detail of our entrance as Micheal and I walk in.
We settle into the hard benches at the back of the room. I glance around and freeze when my eyes land on a familiar head of hair.
Darrel?
My heartbeat picks up speed. I haven’t seen him since the wedding, but that doesn’t mean I stopped thinking about him. Missing him almost drove me insane. I was happy to bury my crazed thoughts in my work. It was the only way I could fall asleep at night without dreaming of him.
I tuck Micheal close to me. “Relax, bud.”
He nods and blows out a breath.
“Mr. Hastings,” the judge gestures to Darrel, “your final remarks.”
I hold my breath, watching intently as Darrel rises to his full height. His hair looks like he ran his hands through it several times already and his eyes—oh gosh, he’s nervous. The closed-off neuropsychologist is wearing his emotions on his sleeves.
“Your Honor,” he says quietly. “I’ve already stated all the sensible reasons why I am well-equipped to have custody of the boys. That includes my financial position as well as the live-in nanny that I recently hired. I’ve made my case, in all the ways I can think of, to prove that the boys will be safe and protected.”
The judge purses her lips and looks him over.
I do the same. He’s wearing a pressed button-down and simple trousers. His hands are shaking slightly. He looks worn out. Bags under his eyes. Shoulders slumped. Skin weary.
Is it just because of the boys or is some of the weariness because he misses me?
What if he didn’t miss you at all?
I push all those thoughts aside. The problems between Darrel and me don’t matter right now. He was willing to marry me to keep these kids. I may not be sure what he feels for me, but I know for certain that he cares about Micheal and Bailey. More than anything, I want the outcome to be a good one.
“Go ahead, Mr. Hastings,” the judge says.
Darrel opens his mouth. Closes it. Breathes hard before speaking. “My father didn’t set a good example for me. He was,” he licks his lips, “hard to please and had his own ideas about the type of man I should be. I resented him to the point that I was terrified of becoming him. Because of what he stood for, I ran from the thought of calling myself a father. I actively fought against calling Micheal and Bailey my sons.”
The judge shifts in her chair.
My eyes widen. Darrel, what are you doing? Why are you admitting that right now?
“I watched over them as mere obligation. Their father was the professor who took me under his wings and gave me the courage to change career paths. I owed him, and I always pay my debts.”
Micheal hangs his head. I would too if my stand-in dad called me an ‘obligation’ in front of an entire courtroom.
I slant an angry look in Darrel’s direction. Darrel, what the hell are you saying? If he keeps talking nonsense, I’m going to jump over the boundary between the onlookers and the rest of the court and I’m going to choke him.
“I thought I was doing the kids a favor by taking them in. I didn’t think there was anything they could teach me, anything I could gain from having them in my life. I believed I already had everything I needed. I didn’t lack for money. I had a thriving practice. And I had no time for close connections. What could they possibly offer me?”
Micheal slowly lifts his head.
I hold my breath a little longer.
“I was wrong. Extremely wrong. I didn’t know what I was missing until Micheal and Bailey came to me. The farmhouse was just a couple walls until they filled it with their laughter and their presence. My life turned into something meaningful. And I… I turned into someone who gets up in the morning with a purpose beyond myself. I go through the day worrying about them and wondering if they’re okay. I rearrange my schedule because I love picking them up from school and helping them with their homework. I’m fulfilled at the end of the night when they’re safely in their beds after conquering the day with confidence because they know they can run to me if anything goes wrong.”
My chest tightens and I fight against the swell of emotions rising in me.
“Micheal and Bailey give me peace. They give me hope that the world can be a better place, and my world is a better place because they’re in it. They challenge me to accept my past and reconsider what really matters in the present. My fears about being a father pale in comparison to how much I love having them around. It’s an honor to protect them, to provide for them, and to care for them. I don’t care how tough it gets, and honestly—I don’t care what this court decides. Nothing will change the fact that they’re my home. They’re my family. They’re my sons.”
The judge looks down and rubs a palm over her eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Hastings.”
Darrel nods and returns to his seat. On the way, he looks at the back row and his electric green eyes collide with mine.
I feel a jolt all the way to my toes.
His lips twitch and he mouths, “Hi.”
“Hi,” I mouth back to him.
Darrel glances at Micheal and nods. The little boy pulls his lips in, tears shimmering in his eyes.
I realize, in that moment, that I have no idea if Darrel Hastings really loves me, but I know one thing for sure.
I love him.
More than I’ve ever loved anyone.
Despair swells in my chest. How do I survive if Darrel Hastings doesn’t love me back?
“Congratulations!” An explosion of confetti rains over our heads as we walk into the parking lot.
I jump back when I see a crowd of familiar faces.
“Mr. Darrel!” Bailey takes off like a rocket. Tennis shoes pounding the pavement, he launches himself at Darrel. “Is it true? Are we really staying with you?”
“That’s right, bud. You’re staying with me.”
“Yes, yes, yes!” Bailey pumps an arm. His glasses almost clank to the ground because of how excitedly he’s jumping around.
Micheal rolls his eyes, but a slow smile is spreading on his face. I think hearing Darrel’s true feelings about them took a load off his shoulder. I hope, going forward, that he can rest easy and just focus on being a kid.
“How did you two know about this?” Darrel arches an eyebrow at Kenya and Alistair.
“Are you kidding? Did you think we’d miss this moment for anything?” Kenya chirps.
“She had our bags packed from last night.” Alistair scowls. It doesn’t last long though. His lips arch up again.
“I wish we could have arrived earlier, but our flight got delayed.”
“It’s okay.” Darrel nods. “I’m glad you made it.”
“We’re glad you’re officially a dad.” Alistair slaps Darrel’s back. “Congratulations.”
Darrel accepts his words with a nod.
“How should we celebrate this occasion?” I ask Belle.
“Ice cream!” the kids yell in unison.
I smile in Darrel’s direction. My heart takes up permanent residence in my throat when he smiles back.
Our relationship is still in limbo. What will he say when we’re finally alone? Where do we go from here?
Our intense staring contest is broken when Bailey takes Darrel’s hand as he chats with Belle. It’s such a casual, automatic gesture of trust and love, and it reminds me of the judge’s speech when she ended the session.
“You don’t have to be related to be a positive influence. Little boys especially need a good male mentor, and I’m glad Micheal and Bailey have one they can count on.”
“Ice cream!” Bailey yells, making me jump. The little boy pushes Darrel toward the car.
Kenya laughs. “Someone’s impatient.”
“I’ll meet you guys there,” I say, swinging my keys over my finger. It hurts to walk away from Darrel and the boys. It hurts to get into a vehicle alone. It hurts to drive in silence when I know Darrel’s car is probably alive with conversation and laughter.
I get to the ice cream parlor first. A line of fancy cars pull in behind me. The kids descend on the shop with loud chatter, lots of laughter and enough energy to fuel a tire factory.
Kenya loops her arm in mine as we step into the store. “You okay, girl?”
“I’m good.” I give her a squeeze.
She rests her head against my shoulder. “Need me to kick Darrel’s butt?”
I never told Kenya about the proposal fiasco, but she knows me too well. “Not right now, but I’ll let you know in the future.”
She laughs and we settle around a table.
Ms. Hansley tucks herself into a chair and flounces her skirt. Mouth curving up, she teases Darrel. “Your first act as their legal guardian is giving them ice cream.” The older woman tuts. “They’re going to be on a sugar high until eight.”
Ezekiel, Alistair’s executive assistant, pats her hand. “Let the kids celebrate. They’ve earned it.”
Ms. Hansley blushes and nods shyly.
“How was your honeymoon?” I ask Kenya.
“It was amazing.” My best friend dives into a story about her romantic trip, and my eyes stray to Darrel.
He’s bobbing his head as Belle talks his ear off about her ballet recital. As if he can feel my eyes on him, he turns his head slightly. Those piercing green jewels flash my way.
I whip my head back to Kenya. “Oh, that’s so interesting.”
“Is it?” She scrunches her nose.
“I mean… that’s awful.”
Kenya snorts. “You’re not hearing a word I’m saying, are you?”
My eyes shift to Darrel again. This time, he’s locked in conversation with Ezekiel. They’re discussing something about Belle’s Beauty.
“Uh…”
My phone chirps.
Glad for an excuse to look away from my best friend’s probing gaze, I snag my phone from my purse and check the notifications.
Mom: How did the hearing go?
I gasp.
Kenya leans over my shoulder and spies on the screen. “What is it?”
“How does mom know about today? Did you tell her?”
“No.” Kenya purses her lips.
I glance up.
Darrel runs his hands through his hair and looks my way too.
I quickly avert my eyes.
Alistair slings an arm over his wife’s shoulder, brings her ice cream close to his face and takes a chomp out of it. “Mm. What are you two chatting about?”
“Get your own.” Kenya lovingly smacks him. “And it’s none of your business.”
He laughs, kisses her hand and returns to the conversation with Micheal. They’re arguing about whether Batman can hack computers.
My phone rings again.
I assume it’s mom, but a glance at the screen shows an international code. “501,” I mutter. “That’s the country code for Belize.” Hiking to my feet, I excuse myself from the table and hurry outside to answer the call. “Hello?”
“Sunny, there’s a huge problem. The shipping company is saying we didn’t attach the bill of lading for the first shipment. I gave them the evidence that we did, but they’re still insisting.” Her frantic voice makes my head spin. “That shipment has the Phase One furniture in it. It’s, like, the foundation of the design. We can’t do anything without it.”
“First, you need to calm down. Did you speak to the shipping company?”
“I did, but they’re saying it’s the Port of Belize’s fault. Oh, it’s a mess.”
She complains some more and then ends the call. I massage my forehead. This problem doesn’t sound like something I can untangle virtually.
A sigh builds in my chest and bellows out in a loud whoosh.
“It can’t be that bad.”
I turn and Darrel is there with his broad shoulders and his green eyes and his poker-face that gives nothing away. I want to wrap my arms around him. I want him to rub my hair and tell me I took on too much and what logical person would promise to tackle a project this size in only three months? I want to argue with him that I can do it and watch the sparkle in his eyes energize me and push me to test my own limits.
I missed him. He snuck into the cracks of my heart when I wasn’t looking and now all the reasons I hated him before are the reasons I want to hold on.
“There’s an emergency in Belize. Progress will screech to a halt if I don’t…”
“If you don’t go and save the day?”
“Right.”
“Will you be gone for long?”
I hear the yearning in his words and hope that I’m not imagining it. “I’ll be back as soon as I sort everything out.” A tired laugh bursts from my lips. “Although I don’t know how long that’ll be. I just left them this morning and there’s already an emergency. Maybe forming this team wasn’t the best idea.”
“You’ll figure it out,” he says confidently.
A smile touches my lips. “How do you know?”
“Because you’re Sunny Quetzal. You were born to be great.”
My heart skips a beat.
He looks down at me. “Sunny, I—”
“I know we…”
Our words overlap.
I smile.
Darrel’s lips twitch.
“Can I go first?”
He gestures for me to speak.
“Two weeks ago, I left without telling you.” The way my body leans toward him is beyond my control. Like all my muscles and bones and veins are straining to be as close to him as possible. “I don’t like leaving things unsettled. Can we talk? When I get back?”
He nods.
My phone vibrates again. It’s another call from Belize.
I huff out a breath. “I need to go.”
“Be safe.”
I take a step back, unwilling to look away from him. “Can you tell the kids…”
“I’ve got it.” He juts his chin at the parking lot. “Go.”
I leave my heart at the ice cream shop. I feel the emptiness keenly when I catch a flight to Belize and watch the clouds through the airplane window.
When I arrive, the sun is still shining brightly overhead. Coconut trees welcome me back by waving their fronds. The humidity digs into my hair and makes sweat roll down my face. The people who stamp my passport look like me or look like someone I’m related to. It should be home. And it is.
But it’s also not.
Because passing two little brown-skinned boys at play reminds me of Micheal and Bailey.
And the sprawling Caribbean Sea glittering beneath the boat that carries me to the private island reminds me of Darrel.
More than anything, I want to iron out the logistical issues so I can get back to them. Unfortunately, nothing goes to plan. Complication after complication pours in, smashing any hopes I have of returning in less than a week.
“Are you having fun?” Bailey asks during a video call one night. I have to raise the volume on the phone so I can hear him. Nocturnal creatures are belting out a song to the moon and mosquitoes are buzzing around the cabana.
I lift the phone higher so my face is at a better angle on the screen. “Yeah, it’s a lot of fun. It’s tough though. I wanted to be back home with you guys.”
“Will you be back for my birthday tomorrow?”
I bite down on my bottom lip. Things have been so hectic around the site that I forgot about Bailey’s birthday. He’s been mentioning it in the group chat, dropping all kinds of emojis and gifs. How could I have forgotten?
Blinking rapidly, I stutter, “I-I’m not sure, buddy.”
“Oh.” His crestfallen expression is a slam to the gut.
“How about this? When I come back, we’re going to have an epic celebration. It’s almost like you get to have two birthdays instead of just one. Isn’t that cool?”
“I guess.” He pouts.
“Stop making her feel bad, you dork,” Micheal says in the background.
Bailey’s eyes narrow. “Don’t call me a dork.”
“It’s what you are though.”
“Boys,” I keep my voice calm, “don’t fight. Especially in front of me. It makes me sad.”
Micheal clears his throat as he appears on screen. His solemn brown eyes peer at me. “When are you coming back? Mr. Darrel keeps trying to sneak into our group chat.”
“He is?” I laugh.
“He tries to bribe Bailey for pictures,” Micheal mumbles. “The kid’s a weak link. He’s always showing off.”
“I don’t mind if he shows Darrel my pictures.” My smile widens as I imagine the surly therapist casually trading extra cups of ice cream for my photos.
“You sure? You were pretty clear when you said you didn’t want him in our group chat.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t add him.” Micheal shrugs. “What is that saying?”
I clear my throat. “Aren’t you eleven years old? Why do you sound like an old man?”
“Maybe because you and Mr. Darrel are acting like you’re younger than me.” He rolls his eyes. “He brings you up at least twice a day, you know.”
I laugh. “Does he?”
“You do the same thing.” He hurls accusing eyes. “You ask how Mr. Darrel is doing every time we talk. As if you don’t have his number.”
I lick my suddenly dry lips. “Would you look at the time? It’s late here in Belize, so that means you two are supposed to be getting ready for bed.”
“We’ve still got an hour, Sunny,” Bailey primly informs me.
“Well, it’s my bedtime then.”
“Don’t you want to talk to Mr. Darrel?” Micheal asks.
I’m not sure if he’s serious or if he’s just teasing me, but I freeze. “Is he around?”
“Mr. Darrel!” Bailey grabs the phone and bounds out of the room. The footage on the screen turns shaky and blurry. Bailey enters Darrel’s office and shoves the phone at him. “Tell Sunny goodnight. She’s going to sleep now.”
My heart flops in my ribs as I watch the emotions play over Darrel’s face. It’s subtle, but I’m so in-tuned to every flicker in his expression that I can read him now.
First, it’s surprise—an upward jump of his eyebrow and a parting of his mouth. Then it’s happiness—the curve of his lips and the softening of his eyes. Then a yearning that makes me sigh gently.
“Sunny,” he breathes.
“Say goodnight!” Bailey yells, shaking the phone.
“Goodnight,” Darrel whispers.
Heat floods my stomach and I croak out a ‘goodnight’ of my own before hanging up and staring at the ceiling.
The sound of Darrel’s voice follows me into my dreams, and I can’t stop thinking about him as I go to work the next day.
“Alright, watch me while I fill out this ordering sheet,” I tell Anita, the beautiful dark-skinned local who’ll be managing the site for me. We’re sitting on the beach, our documents held down by stones so the strong Caribbean wind doesn’t tug them straight into the water. “No matter what, you’re getting this today.”
“You’re in a rush, Sunny,” she says in that delightful accent that I wish I hadn’t lost. “Where are you going?”
“Home.” I shake my hair out of my face. “No matter what, I’m going home today so I can at least catch the tail end of Bailey’s birthday.”
“You miss your kids a lot, don’t you?”
“How do you know I have a family?”
“You’re always calling them and snapping pictures of the view for them. Everybody calls them your imaginary friends because we never see them, but they’re always with you.”
I shake my head and close my eyes. “I’ve been away from them too long. Sometimes, I can even hear their voices.”
“Sunny!”
“Like right now.” I inhale deeply. “I feel like I can hear Bailey calling my name.”
“Uh…” Anita draws away from me.
“Sunny!”
“And that sounds like Micheal.” I rub my temple. Yeah, I’m definitely booking a ticket home today. I’m starting to go insane from missing them.
“Sunny!”
Darrel. My bones turn to mush.
I miss him so much.
“Sunny,” Anita shakes my shoulders and my eyes burst open, “I think you have some visitors.”
“What?” I spin.
And then I gasp.
And then I start to cry.
Because, on the beaches bordered by the Caribbean Sea, my little family is running to me.
