Page 48 of But For You

“Maybe later.”

I covered my face with a pillow so there was no snickering.

When the phone in the room rang twenty minutes later, Sam answered and shook his head, obviously ready to tell whoever was on the other end of the line no. I waved, getting his attention, and told him to go ahead and go.

He covered the receiver with his hand. “Jory, I need to stay here.”

“It’s a reunion,” I reminded him.

His heavy sigh made me smile before he agreed to go.

When he left, Kola snuggled up on my right, Hannah on my left, and we all got warm and toasty, watching Homeward Bound in the air-conditioned room. I wasn’t sure what time Sam got in because I fell asleep.

FIVE

Basically, the adult events and the kid events were separate. I understood it perfectly; you couldn’t really mix them. So, while the grown-ups ate and drank and went hot-air ballooning and golfing and did yoga and hiked and sat under tents in the gardens, the children and the guardians of the children did completely separate activities.

Kola and Hannah loved the paddleboats. We went bike riding together. I took them to the pool, and the waterslide was a huge hit. I was lucky; we did the program at the YMCA every summer, and since Dane and Aja had a pool in the penthouse apartment they lived in—they had ditched the house in Oak Park after Robert was born—we always had a place to swim. So, my kids didn’t need the floaties or the swim rings in assorted shapes and sizes.

The only other boy who kept up with mine was a little towheaded kid who was having the best time, swimming under six feet of water with Kola. Hannah couldn’t go down quite that far, but she could swim under the water in the shallow end. They both had their goggles on, and when Kola swam over to me, his friend followed.

“Pa, this is Theo.”

“Hi.” I smiled at him. He smiled back. “Are your folks out here, Theo?”

“My dad is. My mom is home with my stepdad and the new baby.”

“I see.”

“Theo.”

We all looked up, and the man who joined us looked a lot like his son, except taller, broader, and tanner. He was very handsome, and I was certain that I was not the only one at the pool who noticed the fuzzy chest, long legs, and toned musculature. He must have worked very hard at the gym for that kind of definition.

“Sorry.” He grimaced at me.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” I said, moving towels, my cell phone, and the video camera off the chair beside me. “Here, sit. I’ve got the shade here.”

“You sure?” The smile was shy and sweet.

“Please.”

He took a seat, and we all met—Kola; Hannah, who was in my lap, drinking a juice box and eating Parmesan-flavored Goldfish; and him and his son. It was nice to sit and talk, watch the kids, and drink ice tea.

His name was Milton Kage—who asked to be called Milt—and he was a professor of biology who lived in Houston. He and his wife had divorced two years ago after an eight-year marriage. Theo was six and had been the reason they stuck it out for as long as they had.

“He’s gorgeous,” I told Milt.

“Thank you. I think so. Yours are as well.”

I smiled at him.

“Is your wife busy doing some fun family-bonding thing?” he teased me.

“My husband,” I corrected. “I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

He took a breath. “No, actually. That was the reason for the divorce.”

I nodded. “Did you cheat?”