by Nixie Taylor
She’ll be arriving tomorrow. I just need to get through one day without any major disasters and then I’ll have more help than I’ll know what to do with.
Maggie tugs on my shirt, her jet black curls bouncing at the movement. “Can we swim now?”
She’s been asking since the plane landed on Pole Island. It’s all I can do to keep running wild through the lobby of the Paradise Grand Hotel.
I smile at the receptionist at the resort while talking to my daughter. “Not quite, honey. We still have to check into our room.”
She groans and drops to the floor like a sack of potatoes. “I bet this hotel has bugs.”
The receptionist’s eyes open wide in shock. “Of course not, little ma’am. This is a five-star hotel. We do not have bugs.”
“Bet you do,” Maggie says, rising back to her feet. “There’s surely spiders and mosquitos. Most definitely ants. You probably don’t have lightning bugs down this far south. And with people visiting from all over the world bringing who knows what kinds of bugs in their luggage, who knows what kind of bugs are around here. It’s gonna be awesome.”
I force a smile at the receptionist. “Sorry. She loves bugs. She’s my little biologist.”
Maggie tugs on my shirt again. “I’m more into rocks and minerals right now, Mom. And electronics.”
I offer another smile and a shrug, and the receptionist finally hands me my keycard.
Maggie skips ahead to the elevator. “What floor, Mom?”
“Seven.”
“What, Mom? I can’t hear you!”
That’s Maggie. Bold and brash. So far, I’ve managed to keep her from having any amount of the self-doubt I battle against daily. I will crush whoever finally breaks the strength of confidence my angel has.
“Seven!” I shout.
I refuse to make eye contact with any of the other guests in the hotel who are wondering who the screaming lady is. These two weeks are all about Maggie. One week here, and then one in Paris.
And then back to work.
Even with my sister’s help, after two weeks of vacationing with Maggie, a good long week of work will practically seem like rest.
When we enter the room, Maggie flops onto the bed closest to the door.
“No way, squirt. Momma sleeps in that one.”
She groans again. “Stop pretending it’s so you can get to the bathroom easier without your contacts. I know it’s really so you’ll get murdered before me.”
“What? No. How? I just…” She tends to make me stammer at least once a day in a strange combination of shock and amusement at her ability to grasp concepts kids her age shouldn’t understand.
“I wanna sleep on this one. It’s got better pillows.”
If we can’t be safe on a five-star resort on an island basically designed to support that resort, where can we be safe?
I eventually relent. “Fine. But I get the door-bed at the next hotel.”
I hold my pinkie out toward her.
She bounces across the bed and hooks her pinkie around mine. “Deal.”
My phone chimes.
Maggie cries out, “Don’t answer it. I wanna go swimming!”
Even without looking, I know it’s work. It’s always work. Despite her protest, we both know I’m going to answer. It’s who I am, which is why my clients love me.
“You aren’t even dressed yet. Go find our swimsuits and put yours on. This will take two minutes, and then I’ll put mine on. I’ll probably be ready before you.”
Maggie tends to get distracted most when she’s supposed to do something boring like showering or getting dressed. One time she’d been quiet for about a half hour after her shower. When I went up to check on her, she was sitting in the middle of her bedroom, naked, flipping through an encyclopedia that I didn’t even know we had.
When I’d asked her what was taking so long, she’d seemed confused. “It’s only been like a minute, Mom. And get out. You forgot to knock.”
Apparently, the knocking rule only works one way, though. She’s constantly charging into my room while I’m changing.
Maggie still hasn’t moved, because she’s thinking up ways to prevent me from working during vacation.
I don’t give her the time to come up with something so clever it will guilt me into turning off my phone for two weeks. “I’ll race you.”
She might forget to finish the race, but she never turns them down.
“Go,” she says as she lunges for the suitcase.
Our clothes go flying everywhere as she tosses them around, searching for the nearly matching bikinis she’d picked out for us to wear.
I turn my attention to the message on my phone. The longer I can put off thinking about the bikini, the better.
TPB wants to double their online budget if you can triple their ROI. Is that even possible?
For my biggest client, the answer is always, “Of course.” Even when I have no idea how their request is possible. I always figure it out. It’s like they’ve done the research to see just how far they can push my capabilities without breaking me.
I pull up my browser and do some research. I’m lost in the data when my phone beeps again.
It’s been 30 mins. Aren’t you supposed to be at the hotel already?!? We really need an answer.
Thirty minutes? That’s impossible.
A glance at the clock on my phone proves otherwise.
I’m just as bad as my daughter when I get buried in my work.
“Maggie, are you ready to go? Time for some fun!”
When she doesn’t answer, I swallow my rising panic.
I’m sure everything is fine.
She doesn’t answer when I knock on the bathroom door.
“Maggie, you okay in there?”
In the blink of an eye, a million different tragedies that can happen in a bathroom flash through my brain. Convinced that she’s fallen asleep and drowned in the tub while blowdrying her hair and overdosing on pills the previous guest had left behind, I try the door.
It opens. At least she hasn’t locked me out…again.
I brace myself before entering. I search everywhere, but I don’t see Maggie. Somehow while I was researching, she must have left the room, probably looking for a candy bar in the nearest vending machine.
I run up and down the hall, but she’s nowhere in sight.
Before running to the pool, I go back to our room to see if she’s returned. Inside, I find both of our bikinis on the bathroom floor. She hasn’t gone to the pool. She’s not in the hall. She’s nowhere in the room.
She’s just missing.
My legs buckle, dumping me on my ass with my back against the sink.
I’m going to be sick, but I’m too drained to move the three feet it would take to get to the toilet.
What do I do?
I don’t even know how to dial for emergency services down here. Will 9-1-1 work?
I need to go to the phone in the other room and call the front desk. They’ll know what to do. They must have a security team and cameras everywhere. They’ll be able to find out what happened to my baby and bring her back to me.
I will literally give anything and everything I have to get her back. There is no price that will be too big.
I use the sink to pull myself back to my feet. Before taking a single step, from behind me, my daughter says, “Are you finally ready?”
The sudden words scare me senseless. I leap across the bathroom before rushing back and pulling her out from beneath the cabinet under the sink.
“Where have you been? I thought I’d lost you!”
“There are roly-poly bugs under there. Can we get a jar so I can keep them?”
The only thing that prevents me from letting her know how much she’d scared me is the fact she’d done nothing wrong. She’d asked to go swimming. I’d let her down by getting distracted by work instead. So she’d found something else to entertain her.
“We can ask at the front desk after we swim.”<
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I pick up the bikinis and hand her hers. “Let’s get changed and get you swimming.”
“Are you going to be working again? Don’t forget that book you wanted to read.”
Her concern for me breaks my heart. “I have to do a little bit, but I promise to take time to read the book and to play with you.”
I tickle her until she runs out of the bathroom.
All alone, I take off the clothes I’d traveled in, and put on the red bikini. Much to my surprise, I love the way it looks on me. I so rarely flaunt my curves in my professional life, and at home, I tend to dress for comfort. But as I turn to check out my ass in the mirror, I feel great about yet another part of my life.
“I’d do me,” I tell my reflection.
Once my sister arrives, maybe I’ll have a little free time to see if some cute man on this island might be interested in a little vacation romance.
Rejoining Maggie in the room, I toss my laptop and the book in my giant purse I’d bought just for this vacation. “Ready?”
“Yes!”
My daughter is bouncing up and down with excitement. We have so many activities planned for the week, but what she’s been looking forward to most of all is swimming in the deep pool. She finally learned to swim this spring and has been dying to try it out on her own, away from the safety of the lessons.
Down at the pool, I remind her not to go into the deep end without me, and I watch her for a while to make sure she’s happy in the shallow end. Once I’ve verified the location of all the lifeguards, and I’m confident she’s completely safe, I grab my laptop.
“Okay, Mr. Cooper. Let’s get this done quickly so I can get back to my vacation.”
I quickly get lost in design mockups and data analysis. When I look up, Maggie is gone. I don’t even panic this time. She’s fine. She always is. I drop my laptop back into my purse, replace my reading glasses with my sunglasses, and start looking around to determine where the most interesting bugs on the resort probably live, expecting to find my daughter nearby.
3
Flint
The barista plops a mug down on the table and sits in the chair opposite me. “Coffee. Black, just like your soul.”
“And bitter like us islanders. Break time again, Isabella?”
“It’s always break time when you’re around, hon.”
The Italian bombshell followed a lover to the island, one who promptly left her for one of the bigwigs at the resort. She and I have flirted with each other for most of the year since I moved to the island. It’s easy since we are not interested in each other at all. She only likes women, and I’ve sworn off any relationships.
“The rich girls must still be asleep, huh?”
“Must be. Not that they bother tipping worth a shit. Are they any better about it at the bar?”
I nearly snort coffee out of my nose. “Those delicate princesses never come to the bar looking to spend money. They show up in their expensive scraps of clothes that barely cover their bodies and leave once they find what they are looking for; some rugged-looking local with a big dick.”
“Bitches. But when are you going to start laying the pipe with some of them? It’s not healthy for a strapping man like you to abstain for so long. You need some release. God knows, if you ever explode around here and get any of that man juice on me, I’ll kick your ass.”
I shake my head in wonder at the crude words that come out of her mouth.
“Last time I did, her husband found out and I ended up spending a couple of nights in jail over some bullshit charges. Between that and the time I spent in jail for the murder I didn’t do, I think I can continue dating my hand for a while to avoid any further trouble.”
I haven’t thought about the States in a while. Six years in prison is six too many. When I think back to the events of that night, though, my biggest regret is never getting October’s real name. I think about her frequently, especially when I take matters into my own hands. I can still remember every detail of her pretty face, her stunning eyes, her impossible curves, and the kindness and concern she’d felt over ruining my shirt.
If I knew her name, I’d probably race back to the States and spend the rest of my life searching for her, which is just stupid. There’s no way she’d be interested in a roughneck with a criminal record like me, even if the conviction had been overturned due to the real killed being caught four years after I’d been locked up.
“Who you thinking about, Flint? It’s boring as hell here. If you aren’t going to keep me company, I’ll take your coffee and pour it down the sink.”
“Some woman,” I admit before realizing what I’m saying. I shake my head to clear my thoughts. “From a previous life. Not worth talking about anymore.”
A few months ago, Isabella would have pressed for details. Once she learned those details aren’t coming, she stopped bothering.
Instead, she grabs my coffee cup and hurries to the sink to make true on her threat. “Get out of here, grumpy man. Come back once you get laid and are willing to share all the juicy details.” Her tone gets softer. “Seriously. It’ll be good for you. Loosen up that wall around your heart and find someone to care for your dick.”
I let out a big breath. Maybe she’s right. I shouldn’t torment myself for the rest of my life just because of two bad encounters.
I knock my knuckles on the table. “Deal. Today, I will conquer the land of the juicy pussies once more.”
Isabella scrunches up her nose. “Gross. This is why I only sleep with women. You men are pigs.”
“I’ll leave right after you give me back my coffee. You can’t expect me to make a woman fall for me without pouring some caffeine in me. I’ve only had four hours of sleep.”
She starts pouring another coffee. This time in a to-go cup.
Across the street, just outside the gate of the resort, I see a girl. I have no idea how old. I haven’t spent much time around kids. She’s probably grade-school aged. The kid is wearing a bikini, and there are no parents nearby.
Nobody lets their kids roam on their own outside of the resort on this island. The girl is crawling near a bush for some reason. The only thing that makes sense is she must have lost something.
She’s probably safe in the daylight, but I still don’t take my eyes off her. Some instinct is screaming that I should protect this kid and make sure she gets back to her parents.
It makes no sense.
I don’t have anything against kids. I just barely notice them unless they are begging for money. I always give those kids whatever change I happen to be carrying and go about my day.
But there’s something different about her. Despite the fact that she’s probably just some spoiled rich kid who will treat me like shit if I try to help her, I don’t let her out of my sight.
When Isabella gets in my way while delivering the coffee, I lean back in my chair to see around her.
She turns to follow my eyes. “She okay? You know her?”
“I think she’s probably fine.”
Before I can deny knowing her, the kid stands and starts chasing after something I can’t see, allowing me to see her face for the first time.
My breath catches in my chest. “Fuck.”
“What’s wrong?” Isabella asks. “Should I call hotel security?”
I barely hear her.
All of my focus is on the familiar nose and face. She looks just like her mom.
But not her eyes or hair.
“That’s my kid.”
It isn’t until Isabella says, “You have a kid?” that I realize I said the words out loud.
It’s crazy. Impossible. There’s no way the woman of my dreams happens to show up on the same island as me after all these years and brings her kid with her.
Is she married?
Just because the kid has a couple of features that resemble me doesn’t mean the kid is mine. She could have married some other guy shortly after our one-night stand and had his baby.
The t
hought of her with another man makes me want to vomit. She’s mine. Nobody else can touch her.
I know I’m being crazy. She won’t want me. Hell, it’s almost certainly not even her, and even less likely that the kid is ours.
But I’ve got to find out.
“I’ll be right back.”
A car nearly hits me when I run out into the street without looking. I show him both of my middle fingers before getting out of his way.
The kid laughs. It’s a familiar sound.
That’s my kid.
“You totally deserved that, you know?” the girl says.
“You think so?” I ask when I step onto the sidewalk.
“Yep. Didn’t anyone ever tell you to look before you cross the street?”
“My dad wasn’t really the teaching kind. He died when I was about your age.” I wonder why I would admit something like that to this kid.
“Sorry. That sucks. But I’ve got that beat. My dad left my mom before I was even born.”
My heart breaks. Any thought of a happy reunion with her mom collapses. There’s no way she or her kid will ever forgive me for not searching for them every day I was in prison and since I got released.
“That’s rough.”
She shrugs. “I guess. I wouldn’t really know. My mom is the best. She does more than most moms and dads combined.”
This news doesn’t surprise me at all.
“Maggie! Get over here right now!”
If I thought my heart had broken before, it was nothing compared to what happens when I turn and stare into the eyes of the one woman I’ve ever truly loved.
“You’re here,” I say, the words barely more than a gasp.
She looks at me but doesn’t realize who I am. How could she? It was so long ago. I had longer hair and fewer tattoos. I’m a completely different man now. Both on the outside and the inside.
If I’m ever going to convince her of that, I need to tell her everything before she runs away. “We need to talk.”
Her eyes open wide as she shakes her head no, but then she recognizes my voice. “Maggie. Inside. Now.”