Page 109 of Resorting to Romance

Then, out of the blue, Noah says, “I want to see that cove.”

His statement catches me off guard. My son isn’t one to stick to a single train of thought as a rule, but bringing up Brad … that was a turn I hadn’t anticipated.

Noah’s been asking about “my friend” lately here and there. Things like, “How come he never was here before? Now I see him everywhere.” I told him Brad lives off Marbella and has for years. “But he’s here now because he bought the cove?” Yep. I told him that’s why—the cove. Not because Brad wants reunification.

I’ve been slowly bringing up the idea of Noah’s dad in random conversations. Meanwhile, Brad has been edging his way onto the scene. One day my hints and the reality of Brad will overlap into what I hope is a seamless transition. It’s the best I cando, considering the impossible situation Noah and I were left in when Brad abandoned ship. Now, my only hope is the least harmful path toward reunification.

Saying Brad’s here for the purchase of the cove isn’t a bold-faced lie. Brad is here to expand his business. But I’m putting my toes right up to a deceitful line—for Noah’s sake. It still makes me feel ill. I’ve never lied to my son, not even about Santa Claus. When he asked if Santa was real, I said, “He’s someone we like to imagine is real.”

The real reason Brad is here isn’t the business. And one day Noah will know that. I only hope he understands why we waded into the truth from the shallow end instead of leaping off the high dive. I need to ease him into meeting Brad and then we’ll work into a story about how a dad who was estranged can come back. And then, we’ll talk about how a mom would need to introduce the child slowly. Basically, I’ll tell Noah his own story until he figures out he’s the boy I’m talking about, and Brad is the dad in this tale.

It’s the best plan I’ve got in a situation with no guidebook and no roadmap. The Google results on parents who abandon their child and want to reunify were paltry at best. And the Reddit threads were so full of hateful suggestions I stopped searching them. I wish I had found those when I was in my brief season of self-indulgent anger at Brad. They would have felt cathartic then. With so little out there to guide me, I’m winging the way I navigate this critical season based solely on mother’s intuition and some wisdom I gleaned from aHow to Tell Your Child They Are Adoptedarticle along with the few initial resources that therapist sent me.

I swallow a bite of Belgian waffle. I make my Mila’s Place Waffles from an actual recipe a guest brought me from Europe. They’re from yeast-rising batter and have caramel sauce as an option—one I fully indulged in. I may never go to Belgium, but at least I’ll have Belgian waffles.

Noah’s studyingme. “Can we go?”

“You want to see the cove? You’ve been there before.”

“Yeah. But I want to see it now. I want to see what your friend, Mister Brad, is changing.”

I was the one who introduced Brad that way.

Funny, Kai is my friend, and all I can think about is wanting more, and how life is unfair because I can’t have romance with Kai right now. Brad was everything to me, yet he did things to me a friend would never do—things Kai wouldn’t do to a stranger, let alone a girlfriend or wife. Ironically, I have to call Brad a friend for Noah’s sake.

“Excuse me?” One of the guests pops her head into the kitchen. “We ran out of syrup.”

“Oh! Sorry. Let me get that. Thank you so much for bringing it back here.”

“No problem. Jasper and I just want to tell you how much we adore being here. You’re the consummate hostess. And the food is delicious. I’m going to have to double up my Jazzercise when we get home!”

I smile, taking the syrup pitcher from my guest and refilling it.

“That’s what vacations are for,” I say, as we walk back to the dining room. “A little indulgence, a lot of what you never get to do in your day-to-day life.”

“I hope you take vacations.” She has a motherly look in her eyes.

“We have an off season, but the inn rarely empties out completely. Sometimes it does for a day or two. But I’m grateful. If it’s full, the doors stay open.”

“Well, I’m just a nosy old lady, so don’t mind me if I overstep, but you need time off. We all do.”

“I take time. Around the edges.”

She drops it, but her nudges resonate somewhere deep inside me. I don’t really ever take time off. Being with Kai lately has been the closest thing to a vacation. He always makes me relax, even if it’s just by washing a dish for me, or taking me to the beach for an afternoon.

I make my rounds through the dining room checking the buffet of condiments before I return to the kitchen where Noah is standing on the footstool, rinsing his dish from breakfast.

“So, what do you want to do today?” I ask him. “Jasmin is coming in to sit at the reception desk for a few hours.”

“Let’s go exploring!”

“On the back side?”

We haven’t been on the undeveloped side of the island in ages. Wild animals roam freely there, and there are tidepools and walking paths.

“No, silly.” Noah shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “At the cove. I want to see the workers and demo.”

“Demo, huh? Where did you hear that word?”

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