But the words wouldn’t come. Time seemed to slow, then spiral in reverse. Suddenly, he was seven years old again, listening to his grandparents recount the fatal car accident that took his parents away. He’d refused to believe they were really gone. For weeks, his naive hope and optimism had comforted him like a warm embrace, making the world bearable. When he’d finally confronted their deaths, the overwhelming sense of loss and emptiness had terrified him. It was the biggest, scariest emotion he’d ever felt, and more than anything, he’d wanted his parents to help him through it. And the fact that they couldn’t only made it worse.
Max still clung to the belief that his father would come back for him. If they asked the court to declare Sam Bailey deceased, they would take that hope away. Logan’s heart ached at the prospect of putting Max through that kind of pain—the kind of pain that had left a lasting wound on his own heart.
Yes, he and Abby would be there for him, to help him heal in any and every way they could. And yes, in the long run, the stability of adoption seemed like the healthiest route for Max. But what if they got it wrong?
What if, in trying to do right by Max, they only made things worse?
“Can I think about it?” he asked at last.
“Of course. This is a big decision. Take your time.” Carla closed the file.
Logan felt Abby’s gaze boring into him, but he couldn’t look at her. Not when he could already picture the gut-piercing glint of betrayal in her eyes.
All Abby had ever wanted was to be a mother. Would she forgive him for getting in the way of her heart’s greatest desire?
Chapter Five
CECE
I’m just closingup shop. I’ll run upstairs to change and feed Spock, then I’ll head over.
CeCe sent the text to her mother, then flipped the sign in the window to Closed and locked the door. She rarely closed the café early, but tonight she’d make an exception. Her wayfaring father was finally coming home after spending several months at a dig site in— Where were they excavating this time? Argentina? Peru? He hopped so many continents searching for ancient artifacts she struggled to keep track.
As she climbed the back stairs leading to her cozy apartment above the café, her mother’s familiar words swam inside her head.Don’t be so hard on your father. He loves us very much.
Just not as much as he loves being Indiana Jones, she wanted to retort. But she never did. Why hurt her mother more? As hard as she tried, Durene Dupree wasn’t the eternally happy housewife she presented to the world, content with her garden, volunteer work, and part-time job at the art gallery.
Growing up, CeCe had heard her mother’s quiet sobs through the paper-thin walls of their tiny beachfront bungalow more nights than not. And when they said grace at dinnertime, when her mother prayed for the Lord to keep her husband safe infaraway lands, CeCe knew she’d really asked God to bring him home.
Tonight, they’d be celebrating the answer to her mother’s prayer over her famous curry goat—a labor-intensive family recipe and her father’s favorite meal. Not that he deserved it.
“Spock, I’m home!” CeCe kicked off her shoes in the small foyer. Early evening sunlight streamed through the balcony windows facing Main Street, illuminating the open floor plan.
Her feline roommate barely lifted his head from his perch on the wide windowsill, but what did she expect? She’d named him after her favoriteStar Trekcharacter, Spock, a half human, half Vulcan being with pointy ears and an aversion to displaying emotion. While the cantankerous cream-and-ginger kitten had grown into the personality of his fictional counterpart, his ears had not. As a Scottish Fold mix, Spock’s ears pointed down, not up, an ironic trait CeCe found adorably endearing.
“Sorry, I can’t stay long.” She headed straight for the kitchen pantry. “Tonight’s the big night, when the prodigal father returns. Mama’s making curry goat.”
Spock lifted his head, suddenly interested.
“I’ll try to save you some. But until then, how does salmon and shrimp sound?” She withdrew a can of cat food and showed him the label.
Spock hopped off the window ledge, seemingly pleased with her selection.
“I feel guilty I’m not more excited to see him,” she admitted, peeling back the tin lid. “But how excited can I be about a man I barely know? I mean, he’s traveled so much of my life, I relate more to kids raised by single parents.”
Spock settled on the ground by his water dish and listlessly licked his paw. He’d heard her melancholy monologue before.
“You’re right. Who needs complicated human emotions? Indifference is the way to go.” She scratched his head beforesetting his dinner in front of him. “I’m happy for Mama, but I won’t get my hopes up for some Hallmark-worthy family reunion. I doubt Dad’ll be in town for more than a few days before he takes off again anyway. By the way,” she said, straightening. “Mystery Man came back today.”
Spock briefly glanced up from his food dish as though mildly curious.
“It was the strangest thing.” CeCe poured herself a glass of chilled coconut water from the fridge. “I wanted to give him one of Abby’s leftover sample cakes—she chose the Toto, by the way; no surprise there—but he bolted out of the café before I had a chance. He looked like he’d seen a ghost and left without finishing his latte.”
Spock cocked his head, appearing contemplative, then went back to his dinner as if the mental effort to conjure an explanation wasn’t worth his time.
“I know we get all kinds of customers in the café, especially during tourist season, but there’s something off about this guy. I wish I could put my finger on it.” She drained her glass and set it on the counter. “But that’s a mystery for another day. Tonight’s mission: pretend to be a loving, happy family with a man who’d rather spend time digging through dirt than getting to know his only daughter.” She paused, frowning. “I sound bitter, don’t I?”
Spock chirped in agreement.
