it off as long as possible. Though he felt a prick of anxiety, he liked the idea of sharing her with them.
Whitaker spread the napkin back over his lap. “I’ll set something up. Jack and Sadie would love to meet you.”
They stayed at the restaurant for three hours, talking nonstop and enjoying superbly plated, creative, and colorful dishes that paired brilliantly with their gamay. They shared a shrimp-and-white-bean appetizer, and then she opted for the bouillabaisse. Whitaker abandoned all discipline and chose the homemade noodles with slow-braised short ribs. They didn’t stop there. The bread pudding, smothered in fresh whipped cream, was the best they’d ever had, and they fought over it with their forks.
Along with their food high, Whitaker was high on Claire, and he thought it wild how far off in the distance Lisa felt. He hoped Claire felt the same about David.
It was as if Whitaker and Claire hadn’t even known each other until then. They’d been so focused on the project that they hadn’t let themselves explore the lighter topics, the ones so enjoyable to new lovers. No, their love wasn’t love at first sight. It was more of a slow burn that had started little fires everywhere in his heart.
As they stood to leave and she put her hand on his arm, he could feel the fires uniting now, one collective wildfire burning in his soul. He didn’t know much for sure in this world. He didn’t even know how he would pull off the ending of David’s book. But he knew that he loved Claire.
When they returned to her bungalow, Whitaker escorted her to the porch door. He found himself nervous again, two opposing voices playing tug-of-war in his head.
Amid a symphony of night sounds, Whitaker pulled her toward him. “I’ll keep trying the social media angle, but I have much more faith in Laura. Let’s give her a chance before we do anything else too drastic. I’m not against making our search more public, but I’m not sure we need to.”
Claire drew a line with her finger from his chest to his navel and whispered, “Fingers crossed.”
They kissed, and as they pulled away, she said, “I’m getting there, Whitaker. Trust me.”
“I know you are.” He put his cheek to hers. “I’m not going anywhere.”
As he returned to the Rover, a smile rushed over him. He couldn’t put a finger on it, but tons of good was coming. Out of this whole mess he’d made, something wonderful was well on its way.
With a cup of coffee and two fried eggs in front of him, Whitaker pondered Claire’s request from the night before. She wanted to meet his parents. What a loaded idea. But he wasn’t as opposed to the notion as he’d thought he might be. The typist might have pushed a meeting off for days, weeks, or even months. But that skin had been shed.
In its place, the writer felt nearly eager to share his current life with his parents. The last time he’d seen them, he’d scurried out of the yacht club with the sad news of Lisa’s engagement. And he’d certainly felt their eyes on him during his absurd and most certainly childish retreat.
“What did we do wrong in raising him?” Jack had probably asked Sadie once Whitaker had left, begging the server for another drink.
“Oh, Jack, he’s still growing up; that’s all.”
“He has gray hairs. I was fighting for my country at half his age.” His grip would have tightened around his empty glass. “I swear to God, kids these days.”
Whitaker had spent too long wondering how that conversation had gone. But now he just wanted them to be involved. To meet Claire, to hear the story of Whitaker and Claire’s journey. And to share their incredible discovery that Oliver was alive.
For a second, as he cut into a deliciously runny yolk, Whitaker wondered why he wasn’t more hesitant. Sure, there was a possibility that Jack could say the wrong thing. He most certainly would embarrass Whitaker to no end. But it didn’t really matter.
Whitaker liked Claire, and he wanted to share her with the ones he loved. And he did love his parents. So damn much. Perhaps all the grief he had with his giant family had been of his own making. Perhaps he was the problem. Either way, that was all in the past. With this new lens on life, Whitaker reached for his phone.
“Mom, good morning.”
“Hey, sugar. Aren’t you up nice and early.”
Whitaker found himself surprised that