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“I have a dirty mind. Always have, always will,” he says before closing my door.
We drive in silence to the restaurant, and as the car veers on a street snaking along the shore, I press my nose to the window.
“I love the ocean so much,” I whisper.
“I know. But you never told me why you love it so much.”
“Not sure. When I look at it, I can almost believe that anything is possible, that the possibilities are endless.”
“We can go on a cruise around the world one day.”
My head snaps in his direction, his words reaching somewhere deep inside me. “That’s incredibly sweet of you. But I don’t think we could take so much time off from work.”
He smirks. “The wonders of modern technology. I can do most of my work from anywhere if I have cell phone reception and Internet. And you can take a break.”
“You know I can’t afford one.”
“Emilia,” he says in a measured tone, keeping his eyes on the road, “I know you’re stubborn, but I do have more money than I could need in this life, and I have every intention of sharing it.”
“I don’t take handouts.” My voice is strong and unwavering.
He groans. “Jesus, we’ll always fight on this.”
“Probably,” I say, but smile to myself as one word bounces around in my mind. Always. Can I really allow myself to hope that there will be an always for us? When twenty-eight years have shown me that the only constant is disappointment?
I push those sad thoughts out of my mind as we arrive at the restaurant a while later. It’s on a cliff high above the sea, and all the walls are made of glass. The view is amazing, the atmosphere is romantic and intimate, and I might never want to leave.
“Wow,” I exclaim once we’re sitting at our table. “How can such a place exist?”
“A friend of mine opened it as an experiment.”
“I like your friend already.”
As we scan the menus, Max’s phone buzzes. He takes it out of his jacket with the clear intention of shutting it off. Then he frowns, and instead puts it to his ear, mouthing Sorry.
“Max Bennett,” he says into the phone. The voice at the other end speaks rapidly, but I can’t make out the words. “Okay, keep me in the loop.” After clicking off, he shoves the phone back into the pocket of his jacket.
“Max? Is something wrong?”
“Let’s order.” His words are clipped and heavy. I don’t like seeing him like this, but I will let it go for now. Maybe he’ll cool off in a few minutes. The waiter jots down our order, returning quickly with our drinks.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?” I ask Max once we’re alone. “You don’t have to, but you can.”
He takes one sip from his glass before answering. “That was the detective who is searching for your dad.”
Oh. Now I wish I hadn’t pushed.
“What did he say?”
“That he’s got three good leads. One in Chicago, one in Wisconsin, and one in Quebec, Canada.”
My heart leaps to my throat. “Three? He narrowed it down to three in such a short time?” My father’s name is Julian Campbell, and he shares the name with a few thousand others.
“Not necessarily. He says they look like possible matches, but he’s still researching other leads.”
I remain quiet, my eyes fixed on the candle between us. Sweat breaks at the back of my neck, and I have the distinct feeling that someone is poking the inside of my throat with a needle.
Max reaches for my hand over the table. “Tell me.”
