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“It won’t tire you out?”
“Nah,” I wave my hand, dismissively. “But what about Aurelia?”
“We can have one of the agency guys cover her. Will she be ok with that?”
“She’ll be asleep.”
“Great. That’s settled.”
* * *
I followAurelia and her mother, each holding a twin toddler, back up the beach where they load their bags and the two girls into the golf buggy. I sit quietly in the buggy behind, maintaining a respectable distance. I like my clients to feel safe, not crowded. As Aurelia starts the buggy, her mother turns and fires another glare at me. It’s one I’ve become quite familiar with in the last three hours.
I’d stayed at the top of the beach, discreetly hidden beneath a cluster of palms, watching as Aurelia and the girls in her family enjoyed a picnic courtesy of Arnaud, our resort chef, on the fine, white sand. The sound of the waves caressing the shoreline was soft but loud enough to mask any hint of the conversation Aurelia and her mother were having. For the most part it looked pleasant, but occasionally they would both look back towards me and Aurelia would put her hand on her mother’s arm as if to reassure her. It annoyed me. I wasn’t the one Aurelia needed to be cautious of.
The bored and resigned look on her mother’s face as she stepped out of the sedan made it clear she’d shown up to meet her eldest daughter under duress. Two nannies bundled the twin girls out of the back seat, preened their sundresses and pushed them lightly towards their mother. To Mrs. Bird’s obvious relief, Aurelia was there in an instant, scooping the girls up into a smothering embrace which, as evidenced by their squeals and squirms, they obviously loved.
Mrs. Bird watched for a few seconds as Aurelia took the girls to the water’s edge, letting them paddle in the surf, then she laid back on the luxury lounger and worshipped the sun. Occasionally, a light gust of wind would blow a little sand onto her oiled skin and she would push herself up, tut loudly and make a show of wiping away the invisible grains before liberally applying more oil to which sand would inevitably stick after the next gust of wind.
The twin girls were immaculately behaved and, frankly, adorable. It was obvious Aurelia doted on them and they on her. I felt something like my heart twisting when I thought of the time Aurelia spent away from her little sisters. She must miss them dreadfully.
I stand back as Aurelia gives her little sisters sloppy, tickly kisses, then bends to receive a chaste peck on the cheek from her mother, before waving them off as the sedan disappears down the drive towards the exit. When she finally turns to me, her face is alive with joy. I’m not prepared for what happens next. Aurelia runs to me, slamming the wind out of my lungs and wrapping her small arms around me, trapping my own to my sides.
“Thank you Isaac,” she says, her words muffled against the fabric of my shirt.
I laugh, trying to prize my arms out of her grip. “I didn’t do anything.”
She stands back, her eyes wet with unshed tears. “Well, accept my gratitude anyway.”
I take hold of her hands and wrap them around me again, before wrapping mine around her neck. She rests a cheek against my chest. It feels completely natural.
“Did you have a nice afternoon?” I ask her, softly.
“It was amazing. They’ve grown so big.” She pauses and I know there’s more she wants to say, so I wait. “I hate that I’m missing so much. They’re both talking and Coralie has the most beautiful singing voice…” She stops again and my chest suddenly feels wet with tears. I kiss the top of her head without thinking. Neither of us speak and I, for one, don’t want to pull away. But, the longer we stand like this, the more questionable it becomes. And I’m a professional. I’m also her bodyguard. I’m also fifteen years older than her.
I unwrap her arms and step backwards. “How was your mom?”
She sighs and rubs her neck, a gesture I’ve come to recognize as a sign of stress. “The same as ever. Keen to get back to Miami. She’s going out with some friends in the morning for brunch and shopping. It’s great that she’s seeing people and living her life and not just Chuck’s.”
Yeah, on your money, I add, silently.
“Is she ok with you being here? Full time I mean? She didn’t seem to be too happy with me.”
She shrugs, dismissively. “She would prefer I was in Miami but she understands. I think she just wants me to hang out more with people my own age.”
I gasp in mock offense and she looks up at me, sharply.
“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. It’s not as though you’re, like, my parent’s age.”
“It makes me feel better you think that, but I am actually old enough to be your dad,” I remind her.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’d have to be having sex at fifteen,” she frowns up at me.
I arch an eyebrow in reply.
“You were having sex at fifteen?”
“I’ve always been innately curious. All my teachers thought it was a gift,” I say in my defense.
