Page 25 of Forever Oblivion

“Like this,” she said to Levi, showing him how to drip the wet sand onto the tower, then push it into a turret.

We came to this beach on Turks and Caicos each summer. For a week, no one called us. Music and desalination and other responsibilities could wait.

“Good job.” Aya clapped as Levi’s small fingers mushed the sand into a precise rectangle.

“I did it, Mommy! I did it! It looks like yours.”

The kid took after his mother. He liked reading, like his uncle Lev, and he enjoyed making pancakes with Papa Steve. I wasn’t sure there was much Levi couldn’t do. I set my phone aside and hunkered down next to him, hand on his shoulder. It felt a little warm, so I shifted the umbrella, making sure his small body was out of the direct sunlight.

“You did great, Levi,” I said, pressing a kiss to the top of his dark hair.

His big, brown eyes smiled up at me. “Thanks, Daddy. Mommy’s a good teacher. So are you. Can we go swimming now?”

A great swell of love crested, making my heart beat faster. “After some more sunblock soaks in,” I said. “How about some cold juice while I rub it in?”

His pout turned to a grin. “Okay. The juice here is yummy.”

Aya turned toward the cooler and tugged out the freshly squeezed papaya juice, which she poured into his cup. I rubbed in the sunblock while he gulped his drink.

“You spoil him,” she whispered as he went to grab his goggles. Not that he’d dip his face in—swimming wasn’t really his thing yet, and I was more than okay with that. Still, Levi had had lessons each of his five summers. No way I was letting something happen to him. Not if I could help it.

I bopped Aya on the nose. “And you don’t?”

She looked abashed. “He’s just so dang cute.”

“Can’t believe he starts school in a few weeks,” I said on a sigh.

She slid her hand into mine. “Are you sure you don’t want him to go to Holyoke?”

I shook my head. “He and Cash will be in the same place. You know Cash’ll look out for him.”

She nodded. Our daughter chose that moment to roll in Aya’s belly, causing it to distort first to the left then right. I placed my hands on her warm skin and sang softly to the undulating bump.

The baby quieted, just as she always did.

Aya slid her fingers through my hair, holding me close. Levi slammed into my shoulder and flung his short arms around my neck.

I couldn’t believe I hadn’t wanted this.

No, I wasn’t the perfect father. I still had a lot to learn. But Levi knew he was loved. And Aya and I carved out time every day for each other, thanks to Steve and his new wife’s willingness to pick up Levi from preschool.

Life was full—too busy, thanks to Oblivion’s last album’s double-platinum status. Bridger had written a handful of those songs—deep, haunting melodies about lost love. He still didn’t talk about his trip to Nepal or the woman he’d written us about.

Aya planned to cut back her hours with the nonprofit after our baby girl was born in less than three months, which meant I’d have more time with her. The guys and I planned to put out another album in a couple of years, for now taking a break from the grind to enjoy our families.

I picked up Levi and turned him upside down, enjoying his squeals. I waded in a few feet, until the water lapped my waist and Levi could dip his legs in.

“Let’s go sit on the surf,” he said after a few minutes, pointing back toward Aya, who waved.

“You got it, kiddo.”

We settled there, and Aya joined us, a jar half full of shells in her hand. She smiled at me as she pushed up her sunglasses.

“I found something for you,” she said.

“What’s that?”

She opened her other hand. In it was a conch. It was pale, pearlescent. Perfect.

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