Page 84 of The Mistakes I've Made
“Exactly,” I agreed.
“And it would be nice to see a room.”
“Mmhmm.” I leaned in closer to her, giving her a tender kiss on her neck before working my way down. Thankfully, my T-shirt on her was gigantic, making it easy to pull off her shoulder so that I could continue the path I’d started.
“Okay,” she agreed, the word coming out more like a moan. “But can we leave in a couple of hours?”
I grinned against her naked skin, pulling the T-shirt even lower. “Absolutely.”
“For an heiress, there sure are a lot of things you haven’t done,” I told her as we made our way to the hotel in Corolla.
“I told you,” she said as we walked the short distance between the dock and The Lighthouse Inn, “I’ve been on a boat before.”
“Yes, but you barely remember because you were five.”
She stopped short, her eyes reaching out toward the water. “Things sort of stopped when my dad became the big CEO. He tried to be a dad,” she said. “For a long time he tried, but it wasn’t the same. And all the stuff we used to do—the family outings and the adventures—they were few and far between because his visits were few and far between.”
I took her hand, squeezing it in mine. “I’m sure you have some wonderful memories with your mom though. Things you did together when he was away?”
It was like she’d just been struck across the face. All the color fell from it, and she instantly turned away.
“Yeah,” she answered. “We did. The beach. Um, she liked to go to the beach.”
She might have done a good job of hiding it from me before, but right now, her emotions were bleeding through, and I couldn’t ignore it any longer.
“Lani,” I said softly, pulling her toward a bench off to the side of the walkway, “please tell me what’s going on.”
“Nothing,” she persisted, but the concerned stare I gave back told her I wasn’t budging. Letting out a sigh, she caved. “My mom…she died fourteen years ago. Today.”
My heart broke for her, so much so that I didn’t know what to say.
Did I feel grief when this day rolled around each year for my own father?
Sure.
But, for me, it was different.
I grieved over a man who had died when I was a toddler. To me, he was basically a ghost. And yes, that was tragic in its own right, but for Lani, I imagined the pain went so much deeper because she felt her mom everywhere.
“Tell me about her,” I finally said, knowing nothing I said could ever make it right.
She settled against me as we sat on that bench, halfway between the docks and our final destination, not in any hurry at all.
“I remember her being wild when I was younger, but I think she lost a bit of her spirit when my dad traveled so much,” she said. “And she loved the beach; that part is true. She used to say it gave her life—the sound of the waves and the way the sand felt between her toes.”
“I’d have to agree with her there. I couldn’t see myself living away from the water,” I said.
She smiled. “After seeing you wield magic today over the sea, I couldn’t picture you anywhere else either.”
“Captaining a boat is not wielding magic,” I argued with a shrug. “It’s just a learned skill.”
“Not the way you do it.”
I found myself grinning and placed a chaste kiss on the top of her head. “What else? Tell me more.”
“She was an amazing hula dancer.”
“No shit?”
