“I’m surprised you sat—”
She winced. Dumb thing to say.
She was begging him to get up and move with lines like that.
He looked at her, deadpan. “I’m not five years old. I’m not going to pretend I don’t know you just because I’m—”
Angry? Furious? Livid?
He didn’t finish.
She nodded. “Right. No. Of course not.” She traced a figure eight on her leg with her index finger for several minutes before looking at him again.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
The muscle in his jaw bulged. His head dropped and he stared at his lap.
“There are some things I want to know,” he said.
“Great. Go. Ask me anything.”
Another stupid thing to say.
He looked at her. “Is she safe?”
Shee perked.
That’s an easy one.
“Yes. Safest place on earth.”
“Disney World?”
“That’s the Happiest Place on Earth. No, she’s at a fifty-five-plus community called Pineapple Port outside of Tampa.”
“Fifty—?” Mason’s brow knit. “If she’s over fifty-five, I hate to tell you, but she’s not our daughter.”
“She was cared for there after my sister died. It’s a long story.”
“Isn’t everything?” Mason squinted and looked away. She could tell he couldn’t decide if he wanted to hear more.
After a moment he started again. “Does she know about us at all?”
She frowned. “I thought it would only mess her up if she knew. And it was too dangerous—”
He dismissed her with a wave. “Right, right. You were on the run from the one-armed man or whatever.”
“I was.”
He stared at his lap again.
“I mean, not from a one-armed man. But someone,” she added, quietly.
“Someone only Mick knows.”
“Maybe.”
The plane took off and they fell silent again as the roar of the engines grew louder.
“We could go visit her,” she offered, after the plane leveled off and the captain announced cruising altitude or read a poem by Shelley—the voice was so garbled Shee couldn’t tell.
Mason looked at her. Taking it as a hopeful sign, she continued, “I mean, when we’re done with the current mess...”
Mason sighed. “You understand you stole any chance of me knowing my daughter from me, right?”
She nodded. “I know.”
He paused, chewing on his lip. “I don’t know how to forgive you for that.”
Shee’s eyes teared and she sucked in a breath.
“I know.”
Mason stared at the pocket of reading material in front of him, while she tried to avoid melting to the floor in a puddle of tears and regret.
It seemed he’d finished talking.
Even through her stuffed nose she could smell on his skin the same soap she’d used that morning. She guessed after he’d left the night before, he’d gone downstairs and booked another room. She’d had visions of him sleeping in the lobby or walking the streets all night. That seemed silly, now that she thought about it.
Shee felt eyes on her. She turned to find the thin, older man in the window seat beside her, staring.
She wiped her eyes again and faced forward.
The airlines should pay us for entertainment.
An hour into the flight, Mason shifted from his position staring a hole through the seat in front of him. Though busy mentally torturing herself, on some subconscious level, Shee registered her seat shift as he moved and looked at her.
“You said it was a long story,” he said. “How your sister died and Charlotte ended up in a retirement community.”
“Yes.”
Mason took a beat. “We have time.”
Shee offered a tight-lipped smile.
The highs, the lows...
She took a deep breath.
He wasn’t going to like this story, either.
&&&
Chapter Thirty-Five
Sixteen Years Ago. Cocoa Beach, Florida.
“Knock, knock.” Shee peered through the screen as her sister, Grace, turned to look from her reading spot at the kitchen table.
“Hey, come in.”
To the sound of creaking hinges, Shee entered the colorful cottage located outside Cocoa Beach and submitted to a hug from her half-sister. She’d met her half a dozen times, but it never felt less awkward visiting the woman raising her child. The familiar, strange mixture of resentment and gratitude churned inside her, each taking turns ebbing and flowing as the visit played out.
Charlotte walked around the corner and stopped.
Shee gasped.
The girl was gorgeous, long dark hair, big eyes—granted, the teeth were pretty funky at this stage, but still—
“I swear, she looks a foot taller every time I see her,” she said, aware she sounded like some corny old grandmother.
Grace shrugged, looking morose. “That’s probably true.”
Shee grimaced. She only stopped by when she and Mick were in the area. Everyone had wanted it that way. Grace didn’t want the girl to know she was adopted because she wasn’t—not officially. She and her husband had moved with the baby and there was no reason for anyone to ever question if the child was theirs. It wasn’t like it was hard for Mick to get his hands on a forged birth certificate.
“You remember your Aunt Shee, don’t you?” asked Grace.
Charlotte offered a half-nod, half-shrug that said, maybe, I don’t know, it doesn’t matter.
“Hi,” said Shee.
Charlotte paused for a moment and then disappeared back into the house like a shy cat.
Okay. There’s the visit.
Shee smiled. The girl had always reminded her of Mason, but maybe now she could see her own features in that face. Grace and she didn’t look anything alike, but now that Grace’s husband was dead, people would assume the girl favored her missing father.
Speaking of which...
“Sorry to hear about Luke. It was a work accident?” Shee remembered he’d been in some kind of construction.
Grace nodded.
“You doing okay? Is she?”
“Well, yes, as can be expected. She’s been really strong.”
Pride washed over Shee.
Just like her daddy.
Grace glanced toward
