food makes my stomach rumble. Food and nerves don’t mix so I haven’t eaten since this morning. “I think my stomach agrees.” I chuckle.
David’s a planner. Is it really a surprise though? I mean, he was the leader of the United States. By the time the stars are out in full, he had planned the entire week. With my blessings. Since we were up late, they stayed since Amy has plenty of room.
I’m meeting my siblings tomorrow. A mixture of fear and anticipation wrap around my spine, keeping me awake. If they’re anything like David and Beatrice, there’s nothing to worry about.
I like them already.
That feels weird to say. Should I love them?
My head jerks toward my window when I think I hear a tap. Ryker? I throw the covers off and run to the window, shoving the curtains open. My eyes roam the empty lawn. Zero movement anywhere.
I rest my forehead against the cool glass. Why would I run here even if he was here? He has yet to answer my calls, and it’s been a week.
No, I’d lock his spy ass out.
Total lie.
Closing the curtains, I decide ice cream is the answer. Isn’t it always? The hallway is dark, leading to a dimly lit kitchen. The warm glow from the lights under the cabinet give off plenty of light so I can see what I’m doing without making a noise by running into things.
I sit at the farmhouse-style table. Ted and Amy’s house is very modest. Comfortable. Ryker’s house is immaculate and modern. Clean lines with a lot of silver, white and black. I glance around the room, lifting the first spoonful of ice cream to my mouth. Blue and neutral colors fill the area.
“Can’t sleep, either?”
I gasp, holding the pint of ice cream to my pounding heart. Beatrice is dressed in a blue flannel two-piece nightgown with pink flamingos. Her dark hair flows over her shoulders. “Mind if I join you?”
“Not at all.”
She grabs a spoon and sits by me. I put the pint on the table between us. “What’s the flavor of the day?”
I roll my eyes. “Vanilla.”
She tilts her head in confusion. “I figured you would like vanilla.”
Not that vanilla. It seems I’m a vanilla snob. “My cookies that you tried are vanilla, but they taste nothing like your vanilla here in the States.”
She brings a spoonful of ice cream to her mouth, turning the spoon upside down before pulling it out. “Ever try to make ice cream with your Tahitian vanilla?”
“I haven’t. But that’s an excellent idea.”
After a couple minutes of silence, she asks, “Why the ice cream at midnight?”
“It’s a tradition in Bora Bora.” The lie comes out to easy. She sits back against the chair and surveys me. Am I that obvious or does she have that mom intuition with me already? “Okay, it’s not. There’s just a lot on my mind.”
“Are you nervous about meeting your brothers and Mila?”
“Yes, and no. But that’s not why I’m down here.”
She hums like she knows. “Does this have to do with a famous quarterback?”
Okay, so she knows.
I drop my eyes while I scoop another bite of ice cream. Guilt that I’m worried about my relationship rather than focusing on the larger picture creeps in. I should direct all my attention to the mountain in front of me, versus the ant hill.
Except the ant hill has erupted, and the ants are stinging me. It’s hard to ignore.
“If you ever want to talk…” She sticks another spoonful in her mouth.
I have wanted nothing more than a mom my entire life and now that she’s sitting right by me; I don’t know what to do.
I nod, not yet ready to spill my soul to her. I have her DNA, but she’s still a stranger. “Thank you.”
“We’ll get through this. Just know that both David and I are extremely grateful you were brought back to us. But it’ll take time. Never feel guilty.”
With that, she stands and gently places her hand on my head. She pauses like she’s combining our energy through her touch. It’s not until she moves her hand that I feel the loss. She’s right.
I won’t be lost forever.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Aspen
“Can you do that hula dance stuff?”
“Liam,” scolds Beatrice, shooting glares at her youngest son—my older brother by two years.
He shrugs, casually sitting back on the couch. “What? It’s cool.”
I smile at the younger of the two brothers staring at me with curiosity. At least he’s talking to me. The oldest sibling, my sister, has yet