“How do you feel about motherhood, really?” Emily asked.
“I never saw myself with children, but the idea is growing on me. Having a family feels more natural every day. I just hope Tyson will feel the same with time.” She shook her head. “He said before that he doesn’t want kids and, until now, I was fine with that. But now, I’m not. I’m changing the game, and he doesn’t have a say.”
“Just be honest with him,” Blair said. “He might come around.”
Sienna blinked away tears. “And if he doesn’t? I’ll be forced to trade the happiness I chose for myself for an unknown. I have no idea what kind of mother I’ll be, and, for that matter, what kind of father Tyson will be. If he doesn’t want to be a father, what will his involvement with this baby be?”
“Those are big questions,” Emily said. “And they’re only answered by Tyson.”
Sienna picked up her spoon. “I’ve already broken the rules of our little game. We were supposed to purposely leave our baggage behind during our outings, remember?”
“It’s okay,” Emily said. “But we should get on with it before our ice cream melts.”
Blair raised her spoon. “Cheers.”
They each dug into the first sundae—Beach Bonfire S’mores—and filled their spoons, tapping them together and then, in unison, had a taste.
The vanilla flavor of the airy marshmallow and the rich, creamy ice cream, combined with the honey crunch of the graham crackers and drizzle of chocolate, tickled Emily’s senses. “I rate the s’mores one a five out of five.”
“Same,” Blair said, going back for another spoonful.
Just then, a stream of light hit her face as the door opened, and a little boy of about five with freckles and sandy-brown hair ran in, laughing. He came to a halt at the counter, barely able to see over it on his tiptoes.
The Tropical Treat server leaned in to make eye contact with the adorable boy. “Well, hello, Winston. How are you today?”
“Good,” he said, wrinkling his nose.
Emily was just about to comment on how cute he was when a man stepped up behind the boy and picked him up to view the choices.
“Can you see better now?” he asked, his navy tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve as he steadied the boy.
“Yes!” Winston giggled.
“We’re glad you stopped by,” the attendant said. “I know you’ve been busy.” She gave Patrick a smitten smile.
“Winston’s been helping me on-site today, and this is his treat for all his hard work.” That familiar voice sailed toward Emily.
“How’s it all coming along? I’ve been seeing the advertisements.”
“Good,” he said in his usual short but polite tone. He said to Winston, “What sounds good to ya?”
The boy eyed the pictures along the wall. “That one. I remember it. The Wave Whipper,” he replied.
“The Wave Whipper? You can’t eat all that,” Patrick teased, tickling his sides and making the boy shriek with laughter and dart away.
Emily struggled to take her eyes off him. He was a completely different person with that little boy than the man she’d met. He was relaxed, happy. The sight of it intoxicated her with interest.
Patrick laughed. “I guess we’ll have two Wave Whippers to go, please.” He pulled out his credit card and paid for their order.
“Can we go to the beach, Uncle Patrick?” the boy asked, tugging on the hem of Patrick’s T-shirt.
“Not today, bud. I’ve got a little more work to do.”
Winston pouted. “Can’t we finish later?”
“It’ll get too late, and I have more work tonight. Your mom’s class will be done soon anyway. But if you want to, you can shoot basketballs again while I finish up.”
The boy brightened. “Okay.”
