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“Glad you like it.” He picked up the glass bottle and drained half the beer. He needed to get a hold of himself, focus on the business, the opportunity of a lifetime for his career. He needed to prove he was good enough to his family . . . and himself.
They ate the rest of dinner with pleasant conversation including Zoey. Jasmine cleaned up, despite his protests, while Zoey wrangled him into coloring at the table.
“What color is your favorite?” Zoey asked.
Jasmine flit around the kitchen with ease—she made being a single mother and an innkeeper look easy.
“Mr. Atlas?”
He turned his attention back to the little girl. “I’m sorry. What?”
Zoey sighed with what seemed like a great deal of patience. “What is your favorite color?”
“Uh, blue.”
She dug through the little box of colors and handed him a crayon and pointed to a blank corner of her page. “You can draw right there. Can you draw a mermaid?”
A mermaid? Was she serious? “I’m not very good at drawing, Zoey.”
She grinned. “That’s otay. Mommy says to get better we just have to pwactice a lot.” Zoey nodded self-righteously, and was that a smile on Jasmine’s lips?
“I’ll help you. First, dwaw the tail.” Zoey pointed again to the empty space before him.
“Okay. Here goes. One mermaid.” He pressed the crayon to the paper.
He hadn’t any real experience. But the little girl was happily babbling about little ponies as she scribbled across the paper, so he couldn’t be doing too bad.
“Now draw the body. Here—” Zoey handed him a red crayon. “Make her have red hair like Ariel.”
“Alright.” He cringed at the final product—a stick figure with a fish tail and flaming red hair. He certainly wouldn’t have a future in art.
“Yay! She is so pwetty.” Zoey clapped.
At least the kid liked it.
“Mommy, can we go for a walk on the beach? I want to look for mermaids!” Zoey asked, peeking up from her drawing.
Jasmine dried her hands on the dish towel before rubbing the dark circles under her eyes. She seemed like she was going to fall asleep just standing there. She worked hard, that was for sure. She wiped a few strands of hair out of her face and nodded. “Sure, baby. Grab your jacket because it’s a little chilly out.”
“Are you going to come too, Mr. Atlas?”
He glanced up to Jasmine. Her eyes widened, and her brows creased. Point taken.
“Not this time. I’m pretty tired,” Atlas answered Zoey.
“Otay. Come on, Mommy. Let’s find some she-shells.”
Jasmine’s shoulders relaxed. She grabbed a coat from a hook by the door and helped Zoey get it on. She zipped it up and pulled on a grey hoodie with a couple of holes in it. They waved goodbye.
“Thank you again for dinner,” Jasmine said as Zoey tugged her by the hand and out the screen door.
“It was my pleasure.”
She bit her lip and nodded.
He watched them go, trailing down the beach, getting smaller. Zoey stopped every few feet to pick up something, collecting treasures and depositing them in the bucket Jasmine carried. She looked back after a while, and he waved. The farther away they got, the stronger the pull tugged on his heart. He wanted to go with them, but he was here to do a job and get back to New York. He had a billion-dollar company to run alongside his brother. As tempting as the thought was, Jasmine and Zoey didn’t fit in his life. And he most certainly didn’t fit in theirs.
