Page 8 of Parentmoon

“My departure was set for the last day of their honeymoon.”

Dallas tilts his head. “Why did he send you here?”

“He didn’t want the ticket to go to waste. He also thought Keli might show up and he didn’t want to risk running into her. He told me to take care of her, if she did.” An ache blooms in my chest. While I don’t have any answers to their breakup, I know one thing for certain. Michael still loves his girl. “Do you think she’ll come here?”

Dallas shakes his head. “If she was going anywhere, she didn’t tell me.”

Does his vague answer mean she’s still in Chicago? My imagination leaps into action. The romantic inside me is hopeful. My voice rises with a thought. “Do you think they ran off and eloped?”

Dallas shakes his head again. His eyes held on mine. “Michael wouldn’t do that to me.”

Dallas only had two stipulations for the wedding. The first was a church wedding. Marriage is a sacrament, according to Dallas. A sacred vow of commitment before a higher being.

The second demand was walking his baby girl down the aisle. He saw it as a rite of passage. He’d be handing over the care of his beloved child to another man. With everything in me, I believed Michael was up to the challenge of loving and providing for his future wife. Albeit not perfect, he would still be nothing like his father. He’d be different. Respectful. Attentive. Faithful.

Other than those two things, Dallas didn’t care about the wedding expense or process.

With the intensity of Dallas’s bright eyes on me, I break first and glance away. “So, now what?”

Dallas steps forward, keeping the counter between us. “While the house is privately owned, the resort maintains the rental schedule here throughout the year which means I have access to all the amenities. Everything is all-inclusive. Dinner is family style every night unless you choose to eat somewhere off site. Then you let the kitchen staff know you won’t be present, so they don’t waste any food.”

Dallas pauses. Michael had already filled me in on the particulars regarding food and drink. The resort has three pools and a small spa. It’s heaven.

When I was a kid, I’d played a game with my friends. A list of three. Three places you wanted to live, three places you might honeymoon, three colleges you might attend. Somehow items were scratched off the list until only one option remained in each category. San Pedro had often been on my list of honeymoon locations, although at eleven years old, I didn’t even know where the island was located on a map.

Now I was here in San Pedro, Belize.

“You’re free to use the pools, plan day trips, or get a massage. Just ask the office for anything you need. Rosita can help you.”

I wonder if Rosita has offered other services to Dallas over the years. A personal massage? A private daytrip? A midnight swim? My imagination is unfair to Rosita. I met her upon arrival. She’s sweet, and probably smart enough to know better than to associate with a flirt like Dallas.

“I’m only here today.” I’d been taking advantage of the view when Dallas arrived and interrupted. Now, my only mission is reaching Michael and returning home.

“But you could stay.” Dallas takes another step toward the counter.

His tone is hopeful, pleading even, which seems ridiculous. I’m imagining things again and find myself bracing against the cabinet between us. Whether it’s holding me up or keeping me from lunging at him, I’m not certain. I hate the distracting pull I feel toward this man when he’s looking at me like he is, when I’m certain I’d be the last person he’d want to encroach on his space.

“Michael might need me.” The excuse is weak. Michael is a grown man and I try not to smother him. We’ve weathered years together when it was only us. Hell, it had been only the two of us during most of my marriage to his dad.

“Darlin’, Michael does not need you right now.” Dallas softens his rough tone like a comforting hand against my cheek. A subtle hint rests beneath the warning. Give Michael space.

I don’t like that my son is hurting, and I can’t do anything to ease his pain. Breaking off an engagement had to be one of the most difficult things that has ever happened to him.

On reflection, I should have been stronger regarding his father. Before we were married, my heart was in my belly where my gut told me the road with Craig would be bumpy and lonely. I should have canceled our brief engagement and gone a different route. But fear and guilt and my mother’s scorning words pushed me onto a path that was predictably rocky.

While Dallas’s words were gently delivered, the blow hurts. I bristle, “Don’t pretend to know my son.”

Dallas’s brows lift before his eyes narrow. He leans against the countertop, opposite me, mirroring my position of spread arms and hands braced on the flat surface. “I do know your son. Michael is a good man with a strong will and a smart head on his shoulders. He’s kind and loves my daughter. He’s also stubborn.” He hitches up one brow. “Wonder where he gets that from?”

“I am not stubborn,” I stubbornly retort while crossing my arms.

Dallas tugs at his bottom lip between his teeth, fighting another smirk. I want to wipe that smug smile from his face.

Then I’d like to kiss him.

My heart skips a beat with the crazy thought. Where did that come from? Why would I think that? I press on my forehead as if I can scrub away the idea . . . and the image of his mouth bearing down on mine. Those lips swiping over mine and distracting me from the present upheaval of our lives.

Immediately, I accept that I’m overwhelmed. Everything is catching up to me. The days since the cancellation. The rush to pack and adjust my plans. The extremely long travel time to get here. Dallas’s sudden presence.