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“I love you more.” I finally release her, willing my squeezing heart not to give in to the mom guilt starting to creep up in my esophagus again.
When I stand back up, she gives me the best wink a six-year-old can before she spins to follow Sam. “I love you most.”
I don’t turn away from the door until Lyn’s in the car and Sam is pulling from my driveway. It doesn’t matter if I have her ninety percent of the time, it still feels weird watching her drive off with him.
It’s not because I know she won’t have fun—she always does in a way—but I miss her. Especially now when this little day trip is a selfish one, even if I know I need it. Even if I know I deserve it.
Before I can dwell on the thoughts, my watch sounds from the other room, the melody from my alarm signaling it’s time to go.
It takes another few minutes before I’m ready, but as I do one last sweep, my eyes fall to my laptop on the nightstand.
Three times I consider what I should do, but in the end, I snag it on my way out.
* * *
When I arrive at Carnations, I realize just how much pictures can never really give true beauty justice.
The three-story building is encased in rustic brick, with dark iron at every window and door frame, and surrounded by wildflowers. The popular B&B is only a twenty-minute drive from the city, but with the surrounding fields, pebble driveway, and the fairy lights hanging from the side patio, it’s almost as if I’m in a different country entirely.
I pull into one of the spots marked with a white sign and grab my bag from the back seat. The small stones crunch under my feet, the warm sun beaming brightly at my back. I haven’t even entered yet, and already my shoulders aren’t so heavy, my steps seemingly bouncing instead of dragging.
Pushing open one of the large doors, I’m met with the welcoming scent of something freshly baked, checkerboard tiles, and stark white walls. An entry table holds a small open book and three vases teeming with spring florals.
The host stand, just to the side of the entrance, also bears large peonies in a tall vase. The woman behind it finishes up a phone call before smiling at me. “Good morning, and happy Mother’s Day. Olivia Tran?”
I nod. “Thank you, and yes.”
“You’re right on time. We just did a double-check of your room to ensure everything is perfect. I have you listed for a mani-pedi at eleven, a facial after lunch, and a European massage at four.”
My entire body relaxes as if the mere promise of all those things is enough to satiate it. “All correct.”
Her smile broadens. “Great. Did you get a chance to look at the menu options for your meals?”
“I did.” I slip my phone from my back pocket and open my notes app. There are so many good choices, I couldn’t decide on anything when I booked my stay. “For lunch, I’ll do the Greek Wedge Salad with a side of fruit, and for dinner, I’ll have the Atlantic salmon over lemon garlic rice and steamed broccoli.”
“Awesome. Oh…” she trails off, her blue eyes scanning over the screen. There’s something familiar about her face, but before I can try to pinpoint it, she clears her throat. “I see here our lead masseuse is out today. There is another. She’s amazing, but she’s only free after six. You could also book our lead male masseuse. Same time slot as the one you have now.”
I’d planned to be taking the biggest nap of my life from five to dinner, so the answer’s easy. “I’ll take him.”
The host nods, her smile returning. “Alright, let’s get you all set up.”
She comes from behind the stand and turns for me to follow. Down the hall, it opens into a cute cafe, a half dozen bistro tables filling the space, all covered in fresh flowers. Instead of walking through it, though, she makes a left toward a ducked-off flight of stairs and leads me up one flight. The long hall is similar to the downstairs in style, the the only difference being the aged wood floors. My room is the first one on the left.
Number eight.
She unlocks the door before turning to hand me the key. “If you need anything at all, please use the room phone and dial zero. There is a pamphlet on the nightstand with a map of the inn, but the salon is on the third floor.”
“Thank you.” I shift on my feet when a realization floats over me. “Oh, can I give you something for Mrs. Beckham?”
I dig a hand through my bag before handing her my treasured MacBook.
She accepts it, and I could be imagining it, but I swear the corner of her lips twitch. “Sure. Does she know what to do with it?”
My mouth pops open to respond, but closes when I realize I have no idea if Theo told his mom I’d be dropping it off, and now I feel slightly awkward. “Actually, I’m not sure. Her son, Theo, told me to leave it with reception and that he’d be by later to pick it up.”
A shimmer moves across the host’s eyes at the mention of Theo’s name, and I feel the familiar sting of jealousy. I wonder vaguely if this was the girl he talked about last year, the crush he thought about when she wasn’t around.
They look roughly the same age, and she’s absolutely stunning. She’s the type of woman someone like Theo should be with. Gorgeous, with no children, and no ex-husband trauma.
