Second Chances: The Seahaven Series - Book One (22 page)

I stand in front of them holding Buster. I probably have a look on my face that says more than I'm saying out loud about what I'm feeling: confusion, hope, excitement, fear.

“What is her face doing?” says Maria to Danny.

Danny shrugs. “I think she needs a beer.” He turns to get me one.

“No, wait,” I say.

They both look at me expectantly.

“Before I lose my nerve,” I say. I hand Buster to Maria and put a bag holding his food and toys on the floor.

“Hi baby,” she says to Buster, confused. “Am I babysitting?”

“For a week,” I say. “If it's okay.”

She kisses him. “Sure,” she says, “but what's going o—”

She stops talking and both of them look at each other, then at me.

“What are you doing?” she says suspiciously.

“Wait, wait,” says Danny, catching on slowly. “What about work?”

“I can't explain everything now, but I will. I have to go.” I start to back up towards the door. I don't have much time.

“What happened? Did you work things out?” she asks.

I shake my head no and continue backing up. I don't want anyone to ruin this by trying to talk me out of it.

“Does he know you're coming?” she says.

I shake my head no.

They both look at me, worried. But I'm not. I smile. I look at both their faces, memorizing them. They're my closest friends and they want the best for me. They just don't know like I know that this is it, that what I'm doing is exactly what's best. I'll miss them.

“I'll call you,” I say. I lean in and kiss Buster goodbye.

“Be careful,” says Danny. “Put your wallet inside your underwear so bad guys don't steal it.” Maria slugs him on the arm.

“What? They do that, right? To tourists?” he says.

I'm already walking away toward my car when I hear Maria call out, “Go get him, girl. Yeah!”

I raise my hand in a wave and smile as I get in my car. I glance into the backseat at my two suitcases, knowing that it's all there, all my belongings whittled down to only what I can carry with me. The only material things I'll need to move there permanently, if he still wants me to stay. And when I'm settled, I'll bring Buster over as soon as Australia will lift his dog quarantine and allow him to come.

* * *

I have one last stop to make before leaving for the airport, and it's the hardest goodbye of all.

I drive to Cesar's halfway house, which is in a pretty suburban neighborhood in the middle of town. I park in front and look up at the house, which looks like any other single family home on the street. He's lucky to be here, and I'm so happy and proud that he's been getting stronger every day since his sentencing. I didn't want it for him or know it at the time, but this is the best thing that could have happened to him.

I'm climbing out of the car when I see him through the front window. He's sitting at the table with three other people, laughing. Honest, having-a-good-time laughter, as only a man who's gotten a real second chance and is counting his blessings can laugh.

I watch for five solid minutes, taking it in, looking at him being happy and supported. Last night when I brought him dinner we talked for a long time about the past, and the future, and how we were both hopeful for better times ahead.

I told him about saying goodbye to our father, and how it lifted a weight off my back and off my soul even, and that was a revelation for him. He seemed surprised that he had a choice, that he didn't have to carry around the burden of the past anymore, that he could just let it go when he was ready. When I left he looked happier. There was a new light in his eyes.

If I hadn't seen all of this myself—the change in his face after our talk, him genuinely laughing with his friends—my heart would have broken, thinking about leaving him here. But the truth is he's a grown man, an adult, a person responsible for his own deeds and misdeeds, and he's got to stand on his own now. And the Judge agreed with me when I called him about leaving, since the original deal we made had been for me to stay close and participate actively in Cesar's life and his recovery. But when I made the case for Cesar doing the remainder of his time on his own as a responsible, independent adult, especially after having two months of success under his belt, the Judge gave me his blessing to leave the country, with the understanding that I would check in regularly and visit whenever possible.

I get back into my car and watch Cesar for another minute. My heart is calmer after seeing this, and I know now with certainty that he's going to be okay. So I start the car, choosing to let him be happy and not ruin the moment with tearful goodbyes. It's one of the hardest things I've ever done.

And now, in a few minutes I'll be getting on a plane to Australia. And when I get there, if Matt asks me to stay and live with him, I will.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

I make it through airport security with no time to spare and board the big plane alongside two other last-minute stragglers. I find my seat next to a girl in her twenties and a woman in her fifties, mother and daughter. After we smile and exchange hellos, I think about my own mother and wonder how she'd feel about what I'm doing. I know she would support my decision no matter what, but I think she'd also be happy for me taking a chance on love. She was so special. I wish Matt could have met her.

As the plane's engines come to life, I settle in for the fourteen-hour flight. Quickly we lift off; the passengers turn to their reading and screen-watching, the plane thrums its rhythmic high-altitude music, and I fall asleep.

At some point over the Pacific Ocean, well past the Hawaiian Islands, I wake up, my neck sore from crooked sleep-sitting and a pocket of drool in the crease of my mouth. My seatmates are asleep. I check my phone and it looks like we have four hours to go. I've been asleep for almost ten hours. After weeks of not sleeping well, I'm starting to think maybe I've been more depressed than I thought.

I have four hours of worry to go, it turns out. I start to think about everything that could go wrong when I get there. Like, was Betsy right about how Matt feels about me? I haven't even talked to him. Why didn't I call him to tell him I'm coming? What if he's been working longer shifts because he found someone at the hospital he's falling in love with and he didn't tell his sister?

Will my brother be okay without me? Will I be okay without him? What if he relapses and I'm a continent away? What if it's a mistake to leave everything I know and the home I just started rebuilding? Will I be able to find a job? How can I go half a year without Buster while he waits to go through mandatory pet quarantine when he's been my one constant companion for so long? How will I ever find friends like Maria and Danny again?

My head is spinning. I stop the passing flight attendant and ask him for a glass of wine, and thankfully he nods without raising an eyebrow. I plug my cheap airline headphones into my phone and find some mellow music, and try to push aside all my doubts. I close my eyes. Not to sleep, but to dream.

I get calmer. I force myself to be positive as the plane descends. I can see the sparkling night lights of Sydney Harbor out the window and it's all so beautiful. I've never been here before. It always seemed so far away.

The plane finally lands and taxis to the gate, and as soon as they're able people start jumping up and grabbing their bags from the overhead bins. My seatmates stand up to go and I stand up after them, and suddenly I'm gripped by panic. All the doubts and fears I've been fighting for the past few hours suddenly lurch up again and grab me around the neck. I sit down as the people around me file out of the plane.

I'm paralyzed, because I know if I go to him and he doesn't want me here, it's over forever.

I'm the last person off the plane. I must be moving slowly because the flight attendant at the door says, “Anything I can help you with, love?”

I smile weakly and say, “Courage.”

She smiles kindly and says, “Good luck.”

And then I force my legs to work and I'm walking the corridor from the plane to the terminal, pulling my bag behind me. What am I doing? Am I really here? Did I really just fly fourteen hours to get rejected?

I enter into the bright lights of the airport interior and look around. It's mostly empty except for a smattering of people asleep on airport benches and bleary-eyed travelers shopping duty-free. I check my phone and it's 5am local time. Not all of us can be night-owl late-shifters.

I suddenly realize that I can't show up on Betsy's doorstep at 5am. Matt might be used to late nights, but she and the kids likely aren't.

I see a cafe near the escalators to the baggage claim, and I head toward it. I buy a strong cup of tea and a yogurt and sit at the bar, facing the people walking by.

I take out Betsy's address and my phone and map the route from airport to her house. I won't rent a car now, I'll just take a cab. For all I know I might get out of the cab at the house, be told by Matt that he doesn't want to see me, and have to turn right back around for the airport to fly home. Definitely better not to rent a car.

I look through the terminal out the front of the airport at the line of cabs to see what my choices will be. As I scan the cars, I see a nice looking family of four climb out of a hired minivan. They take suitcases out of the trunk.

The four of them face the airport and roll their suitcases behind them as they walk inside. I stop eating my yogurt.

It's Matt.

Before I can think about what I'm doing I push my chair back and I'm standing up and walking out of the cafe like a magnet moving toward him. I can't stop myself. There's nothing I can do, I can't help it, I'm blind to everything but needing to be with him. My fate is in his hands.

The boy, his nephew, sees me coming and stops walking, staring at me. Then Betsy sees me, and stops and puts her hands over her mouth in happy surprise. Then the girl, his niece, takes a step back. And then finally Matt looks up when he sees everyone else has stopped. He sees me and doesn't move. I keep walking closer because I can't not keep coming closer to him.

Then I'm five feet in front of him and all he's done for the last ten seconds is stand staring at me while Betsy looks back and forth between us.

I stop and watch him, searching his eyes. I think I might be crying a little bit.

“Hi,” I say.

He doesn't say anything, just stares. And then in one quick, fluid motion that feels like a beautiful homecoming dance, he grabs me and kisses me, enveloping me. My body folds into him, home at last.

“Are you really here?” he whispers. “Is it you?”

“I love you,” I whisper back. “Please don't ever leave me again.”

“Never,” he says into my hair, my ear, my mouth. “I will never, ever leave you again.”

And he kisses me in a way that makes me know he means it.

EPILOGUE : One Year Later

I'm sitting on the couch, my feet propped up, reading a magazine and eating bon-bons. Really. It's such a cliché, but they're delicious. I would highly recommend putting some in your mouth as soon as humanly possible. Well, full disclosure, eating them along with the foot-propping is also a little more socially acceptable when you're pregnant.

Yes, I am—we are—fifteen weeks pregnant. After thirteen weeks of feeling like a truck ran me over while I still went to work and rescued people when all I wanted was to be rescued myself, I finally feel good again. This growing another human being stuff is hard. Except for the bon-bons part.

I look up from my magazine, which in accordance with orders to sit down and relax is appropriately Hollywood-trashy. Really what I like the most is seeing which celebrities are the same amount of pregnant I am.

“When are they coming?” I ask.

Matt looks up from the kitchen where he's cooking an amazing-smelling paella. “Five,” he says, glancing at the clock. “I think we're right on track.”

Buster naps beside me on the floor of the couch, and I think again about how I'm so glad I didn't have to be without him for six months. He was a happy boy when I came home three days after I left him. He was ecstatic to see Matt, too, and to meet Betsy, James, and Julia.

Buster's been really good for James this last year. Getting Matt's nephew out of his home environment where he was getting into so much trouble was the shake-up he needed, and then being put in charge of Buster for the first few months he was here while he lived with us gave him the responsibility he needed to climb out of the hole he was in. Lately as he's been starting to think about college, he's talking about how he wants to be a veterinarian.

Matt puts the giant lid on the big, wide pot and comes to the couch to sit next to me.

“Your brother coming, too?” he asks, taking a bon-bon. He groans happily. “These things are deadly!” And he takes another one.

“He gets off work at 5, so he said he'd come over right after.”

Matt looks at the clock, then at me.

“It's 4:15,” he says, smiling mischievously. “We've got a little time.”

I look over at the wide-open sliding door and hear the waves crash outside.

“We could make Buster stand guard,” I smile.

Matt leans over and kisses me, pulling my legs up lengthwise on the couch. He lays next to me, one leg draped over me, as he rubs the skin under my waistband. I can't get enough of this man. I don't know what I expected, that maybe after getting married my wanting him would diminish? But it's only grown. I could stay in bed with him all day every day with periodic breaks for bon-bons and that would be fine by me.

He moves his palm between my legs and his warm tongue circles my mouth. I adjust my hips to bring his hardness closer to me, and—

I hear a throat-clearing noise from the door. Matt and I break apart and straighten up.

Maria and Danny are standing in the doorway. Danny's looking away, but Maria's looking right at us, smirking.

“The two of you are like horny teenagers,” she says. “It's disgusting.”

She comes over to the couch and gives me a hug. Matt sits up and discreetly puts a pillow in his lap, saying, “Hey, Danny, grab a seat.”