Sweet Talker

by Robin Bielman

  His writing is easy to read. The sentiment sweet. Rylee is going to love it. I read my postcard next.

  Dear Pascale,

  I saw this beaver and thought of you.

  Not like that!

  Okay, exactly like that.

  Love,

  Ethan

  I hold the postcard to my chest and laugh. At least he’s being playful and not serious. I think about the spineless, inconsiderate text I left him with, and I’m ashamed of myself. He deserves more than that and he knows it, which is why he’s reached out even though I did exactly what he asked me not to. I ran.

  “What’s so funny?” Rylee asks.

  “Oh, just something silly.” I distract her by handing over her special delivery. “Look what you got. A postcard in the mail.”

  “I did?” Her sweet, astonished voice is adorable. She looks at the picture of the monkey with a huge smile on her face then turns the card over. She’s a good reader for her age and reads each word aloud to me. When finished, she lifts her head up and says, “Can I send him a postcard back?”

  “Sure.”

  We do a quick change of clothes in our hotel room before walking along the beach path to the small village of shops and restaurants not far from the resort. Before sitting down at our favorite taco joint, we buy two postcards at the sundry store. I thought I’d write Ethan back, too.

  While we wait for our food, Rylee carefully writes she is having fun and asks how the chickens are doing. My note goes like this…

  Dear Ethan,

  A dirty mind is a terrible thing to waste.

  I’m glad I could help cultivate yours.

  Aloha,

  Pascale

  Could not can because I’m not sure what our correspondence means for the future.

  Eight Days Later…

  “I got another postcard!” Rylee squeals in the middle of the hotel lobby. “Look!” She shows me a picture of a bright blue whale blowing tiny red hearts out of its blowhole. “Dear Rylee,” she says reading the flipside. “I hope you’re having a whale of a time at the beach. Love, Ethan.” She scrunches up her nose in confusion.

  “It means he hopes you’re enjoying yourself.” I nod my thanks to Kai for delivering the card to Rylee. Ethan obviously sent it before he received ours and I wonder if we should expect more mail from him. Once again, I don’t know how I feel about that.

  On the one hand, it’s really nice that he’s kept Rylee on his radar even though we’re far away. I hadn’t thought about how my decision to up and leave would affect her. I want to protect her, but she’s clearly attached to Ethan and after losing her dad is it fair of me to keep them apart?

  I’m suddenly not so sure.

  “I have to send him another one!” Rylee says, punctuating her announcement with a twist and march toward the gift shop where we noticed postcards for sale yesterday.

  “For you,” Kai says before I step away. He hands me a postcard with a watercolor sunflower. It’s beautiful and puts a flutter in my stomach. I hadn’t realized how much I’d hoped to get another note from Ethan, too.

  Dear Pascale,

  No witty teasing this time.

  Just something yellow and bright

  that reminded me of the way

  you light up my life.

  Love,

  Ethan

  Damn him. His tender words carry just as much, if not more impact than his humorous ones, and my doubts double. I thought I needed time away from him to make sense of the tangled mess of emotions in my head.

  But maybe I was wrong.

  Twelve Days Later…

  As I watch Rylee nap on the lounge chair on our patio, someone knocks on the door. All the sun and fun is wearing her out, and I sense she misses home. I do, too, but I intend to enjoy our last two days here before reality sets back in.

  I open the door to find a hotel employee with two more postcards. He hands them over and takes his leave quickly, telling me gratuity was already taken care of when I ask him to wait a moment. There’s no doubt who has left a tip on our behalf.

  Ethan’s taken care of a couple of other things, too. Dinner one night. A surf lesson for Rylee. A luau. He’s reminding us of his presence while keeping his distance. A powerful combination that’s earned him my appreciation. He recognizes I needed some space, but he’s not giving up on me so easily. You didn’t really want him to, did you?

  Yes.

  No.

  I don’t know.

  Falling onto the lounge chair next to Rylee’s, I read her note first…

  Dear Rylee,

  The chickens miss you and so do I.

  Guess what showed up in our

  backyard? A turtle. I hope you’ll

  help me take care of him.

  Love,

  Ethan

  On the other side of the postcard is a cartoon of a bright green turtle wearing a white shirt with a red heart on it and the words Somebody in California Loves You written around the perimeter. The words steal my breath. Ethan wouldn’t send something like this if he didn’t mean it.

  Wait.

  I read the postcard again. My heart pounds.

  Our backyard.

  I let that register through my thick skull.

  All his notes have pointed to one thing: making us a family like he said in his voice mail. He’s never once given me a reason to doubt him. Instead, I’ve doubted myself, and I’ve judged him over one measly oversight, too worried about what-if when I should be grateful for a second chance with a man like him.

  I wipe at the corner of my eye.

  My postcard pictures a watercolor heart in shades of red and pink and on the blank side it reads…

  Dear Pascale,

  I don’t want to alarm you, but my heart

  is in need. It needs your warmth.

  Your energy. Your secret smiles you don’t

  think I notice. You bring out the best in

  me, and my staff and family are starting

  to notice. It’s clear something is missing.

  One guess who that is.

  Love,

  Ethan

  He is too much. I picture him as Mr. Grumpy Pants and that only makes me love him more. His heart needs me. He loves Rylee. Does he love me?

  I close my eyes and watch the movie of us. From our first meet when we collided on the sand not far from where I sit right now, through all the amazing times he’s made me laugh, made me feel special, made me feel like it was the two of us against the world.

  “Mommy?” Rylee says.

  Turning to my side, I smile at her. Mommy. I’m a mom. I will never get tired of hearing that. “Hi, sleepyhead.”

  She eyes the cards in my hand.

  “For you.” I hand her the postcard from Ethan and watch as she concentrates on the picture side before turning it over to read his message. Rather than be excited like the last two times she received mail from him, unmistakable sadness draws the corners of her mouth down.

  “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

  “My birthday wish didn’t come true.”

  That’s a big leap from Ethan’s sweet note, but okay. “What do you mean?”

  “I wished for Ethan to be my second daddy but he doesn’t want to be.”

  Hearing those words sends dread and an ache so deep through my muscles that I’m momentarily light-headed. I scoop her into my arms, sad and confused myself. In my haste to keep her from pain it seems I’ve caused her more of it. “That’s not—” I stop short of saying “true” because I don’t know for absolute certainty.

  “If he wanted to be my daddy he’d be here instead of sending me postcards,” she says, her train of thought so wise for a child her age.

  “That’s not true,” I assure her now. “I told him this was a trip for just you and me. I wanted special time for us.”

  She lifts her head. “He wasn’t invited?”

  I shake my head. “Nope.”

  “Do you think he’ll still want help with
the chickens and turtle when we go home?”

  “I think yes. Most definitely.” I’m so glad kids’ brains spiral in many directions at once. I rub her back as she returns her head to my shoulder. I’m also going to fix this. Running from love isn’t the answer. It never was.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Love Me Again

  Ethan

  “If you don’t get your ass on a plane to meet with this guy in person, then the deal is over.”

  I rub the muscle spasming in the back of my neck. This isn’t what I wanted to hear, but the answer is a no-brainer. Painful, but a no-brainer. I have it on good authority that Pascale and Rylee are coming home today. I don’t know what time and I don’t know with complete certainty that they haven’t changed their plans in some way, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not about to risk making the same mistake twice.

  “Then the deal is off,” I tell my business manager in no uncertain terms over the phone.

  “Ethan.”

  “A face-to-face isn’t possible today. He’s a family man, surely he understands that.”

  “That’s exactly why he wants to meet you. He’s only back in the country for two days and is insisting on lunch or dinner.”

  “Why is this suddenly so important?” The billionaire owner of the small piece of land my new Vegas restaurant was supposed to sit on apparently wants to get to know me first.

  “Because he’s unexpectedly in the US.” The phone line is silent for a moment. “Look, meeting with him personally could lead to some other very lucrative deals in the future, too. Are you positive you want to pass this up? We’re talking you fly in and you fly out. It’s a few hours, tops.”

  I take a sip of coffee as I watch my chickens in their coop. The baby chicks have grown, and I wonder if Rylee’s grown since I last saw her. “I’ll find another spot on the strip when the time is right.”

  A deep sigh comes over the phone. “All right.”

  “Thanks for all your help, Brent. Have no fear. We’ll have other opportunities,” I say before disconnecting.

  Fear.

  An unpleasant emotion concerning the outcome of a situation.

  And the worst F-word in my book. I fucking hate when I feel it and I’d be lying if I said my nerves weren’t rattling under my skin right now, but not because of a business deal. Normally when I’m afraid of something, I meet it head-on. Bungee jumping. Surfing when the swells are triple my size. Hang gliding. Piloting.

  There’s nothing normal about Pascale or Rylee. They are exceptional. Irreplaceable.

  Mine.

  Which is why it’s past time I did something more. If I sit around and wait for Pascale to come to me I’m going to lose my mind.

  It’s nine a.m. If her flight leaves Maui sometime this morning, that means she’ll be back in town late this afternoon or early evening. I stare at the phone in my hand, indecision weighing my shoulders down. Our only communication the past two weeks has been through the postal service. It’s been frustrating—and painful—not hearing her voice. It’s three hours earlier in Hawaii, but I need to know her ETA so I can function for the rest of the day like a normal human being and not some lovesick fool wildly missing his other half and her pint-sized sidekick.

  The call goes to voice mail.

  I type out a text then delete it. Try again. Delete again. I’m that twenty-two-year-old kid again, feeling clumsy with his emotions and wishing more than anything for Callie and I to be together. Plain and simple. Only our lives aren’t simple; they’re incredibly and beautifully more complex now.

  Placing my coffee mug and phone beside me on the bench, I stand to stretch. I twist right and then left and nearly topple over at the vision standing across the grass from me.

  “Surprise,” Pascale says with a little wave.

  I blink to make sure I’m not imagining her.

  Nope. The woman whose heartbeat I want next to mine for the rest of my life is within reach. She’s here. She’s here of her own accord. Relief and gratitude rush through my body.

  “Best surprise of my life.” I quickly close the distance between us, take her face in my hands, and pour two weeks of missing her like crazy into my kiss.

  Her arms wrap around my neck and her fingers run through my hair as she kisses me back. Thank my lucky stars. She tastes like coffee and spearmint and Callie. The girl I fell in love with. The woman I love even more. Our lips brush with care and warmth, intensity and enthusiasm. As far as I’m concerned, I never have to come up for air again. She holds my next breath. My next everything.

  Her hand slides to my chest, palm over my heart. I’m positive she can feel it pounding a million beats a minute. When I ease up slightly on the pressure of the kiss, her eyes open to meet mine. I gaze into heavy-lidded beauty with unmistakable affection in their depths.

  “I missed that,” she says softly.

  “Me, too.” So damn much.

  “Can we sit?”

  “Of course.” The bench is plenty big for the two of us. “I thought you were flying back today.”

  “We took the red-eye, so technically we did.”

  “How—”

  “I’m—”

  “You go first,” I say.

  “I’m really happy to see you,” she says. “After the way I left I wasn’t sure you’d—”

  “You can be a 100 percent sure,” I enthuse, not wanting her to doubt me for a second.

  She laughs. “Okay. That definitely makes what I have to say next easier.” She slips her hand inside mine. “Thank you for giving me time and space to think. I needed it. And thank you for the postcards. Rylee and I loved getting them.”

  “You’re welcome. I loved getting yours, too.”

  “You’ve always been there for me and I doubted you when I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry about that. I don’t want to push you away. My heart needs you, too. I’m sorry I left like I did rather than talk things through with you, and I promise to be better about that in the future.”

  “I appreciate that, and if I ever come on too strong, just let me know. I don’t want you to retreat from me.”

  An easy smile graces her beautiful face. “I can do that.”

  I release her hand to brush the hair off her shoulder. “There’s a few other things I’d like you to agree to.”

  “Oh yeah? Like what?”

  “Dates. Lots of them. You and me. You, me and Rylee. Me and Rylee.”

  She presses her lips together and nods, her gaze full of appreciation. Affection. I relish this moment of silent communication, knowing she sees respect and attachment reflected back.

  “And sleepovers,” I say next. “Rylee already caught me in your bed so…”

  “I’m on board with that.”

  “Great. What do you think about a road trip? The three of us taking a month to drive across the country.”

  “A month? That’s a long time for you to be away.”

  “It’s not nearly long enough for me to devote my undivided attention to you and Rylee and shower you both with adoration, but it’s a good start. Give the three of us time to connect on a deeper level.”

  She bites her bottom lip. “I’m so in love with you, Ethan Auprince, that it scares the shit out of me.”

  Halle-motherfucking-lujah. “I’m so in love with you, Pascale Nichols, that it feels like a dream hearing you say you love me, too.”

  She leans forward to rub her nose against mine. “Say it again.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you,” she repeats.

  “Is now a good time to tell you I love Rylee too? And that I’m all in?”

  “Now is perfect. She loves you, too. So much so that she holds you in very high regard. Are you sure you’re up for that?”

  “Definitely.”

  “This isn’t something we can take lightly. I agree the three of us spending time together is important, so count us in on the road trip.”

  “Fantastic.” I kiss her. “And understand I take this ve
ry seriously. You’ve turned my world upside down in the best possible way and I’m grateful and humbled and so in love with you.”

  “Right back at you.” She kisses me. “I think this is the start of something special.”

  “Agreed.”

  “You’re beyond precious to me and Rylee. Don’t ever forget that. Even if I keep things bottled up inside, which I will try very hard not to do.”

  “Thank you. I won’t.” How I got this lucky is beyond me. I know there will be difficult times. That’s life. But no matter what, my commitment to Callie and Rylee will never falter.

  “What?” Callie asks, apparently noticing my thoughts have strayed.

  I want to come on strong so there is zero doubt in her mind about us, but I also don’t want to overwhelm her. I take a breath. Fuck it, I’m going for it.

  “How do you feel about giving Rylee a brother or a sister?”

  Pure, undiluted joy brightens her eyes. “I wasn’t sure you wanted to have kids.”

  “I definitely do. And being around Rylee—and you—has made me want it even more.”

  Her pulse flutters on the side of her neck. “What are we talking? One? Two?”

  I glance down at her stomach and picture her swollen with my child growing inside her and once will not be enough. “As many as you want, but I’m hoping at least two.” I stand and pull her up with me. “And you know what they say. Practice makes perfect.”

  “Oh, is it practice time?”

  “Yep.” We hold hands on our way back to the house. “Is Rylee at home with Paige or with your parents?”

  “With Paige. She didn’t sleep well on the plane so I tucked her in bed for a little more shut-eye before coming here.”

  “How about you? Did you get enough rest?” We navigate the travertine path toward the kitchen.

  “Sleep sounds great. But after we practice.”

  I march her straight to my bedroom, a vapor trail of her warm, positive energy floating behind us. One day I’ll put a ring on her finger and ask her and Rylee to move in here to make this house a home, but for now she’s right and we should take it slow.

  “C’mere,” I say, sitting against the headboard of my bed. As much as I want to strip her naked, I also just want to hold her in my arms.

  She tucks herself against my side, her arms wrapped around my middle. “There’s something else I want to tell you,” she says.