She wanted to rush in, offer comfort, but he had more to say, and his body language warned her clearly to stay away.
“She had every right to make that choice, but it killed me that she didn’t allow me to be a part of it, to go with her, to…to mourn with her, or celebrate, if that’s what she wanted. She cut me off, and I…” He shook his head, out of words. “And that one thing has clouded my relationships with women my entire adult life.”
“I’m sorry, Danny. I really am.”
“I am, too,” he admitted, pushing his plate away and resting his elbows on his knees. “Looking for you became a part-time mission. I know it’s completely unfair to you, but I think I wanted you to be who you used to be.”
“Which I am not.”
“And neither am I. I want a kid, Annalissa,” he admitted, his words directed more to himself than to her. “Maybe more than one. Being here, with you, has helped me realize that truth.”
“I can’t help you with that desire.”
The hope she’d brought with her crumbled in on itself. And when the rumbling sound that accompanied her pulse quieted, she was fine. Fine enough to offer comfort to someone who was hurting. She sat beside him, curved her hands over his, and interlaced all their fingers. He leaned his head close, and she rested her cheek on his shoulder, letting the sound of the waves and the warmth of the fire ease the moment.
“I know,” he said, breaking the prolonged silence. “I know.”
Chapter Fifteen
Daniel left soon after his confession, his dinner unfinished. In the morning, Anna found a note on the floor near her door, letting her know the stay was paid for and he was on his way home to New York. She was welcome to contact him, the note continued, if she felt the need, but for the time being, he preferred to keep distance and silence between them.
Anna digested his parting words on her balcony over a pot of freshly brewed coffee delivered to her room by the ever-present, omniscient Jorge. He’d added a bowl of sliced tropical fruits, a croissant, and a spray of orchids to the tray.
Sun on her legs, warm air lifting the ends of her hair off her neck, she released Daniel from having any influence over her last full day in paradise. She went snorkeling after breakfast, wandered the paths of the resort and the full length of the beach, swam in the ocean until she was waterlogged, and read the afternoon away under the protective shade of a striped beach umbrella.
For her final dinner, she donned the green velvet dress and an extra layer of mascara and took a table overlooking the sea. Anna relished each dish recommended by her waiter, savored every bite of dessert, and left the resort the next morning as the sun was rising.
The drive to the airport and the security line at the airport left her plenty of time to rehash her final conversation with Daniel. She was surprised at her lack of emotion. Or maybe it would hit her later. She didn’t know, but a sense of calm stayed with her through take-off and into landing. It was only when her arrival home was delayed because of a missed ferry, and she realized she’d be spending the night in a Vancouver hotel blanketed by thick, gray fog that she lost her composure and allowed herself to revisit the tiny grains of hope clinging to her like the sand at the bottom of her carry-on.
This hotel had no Jorge. No infinity pool on her balcony, no twinkling stars, no skin-caressing tropical breezes. It did offer a plush bed and room service. Anna changed into her cashmere sweater and pajama pants, propped herself against a phalanx of pillows, and opened her sketchbook.
Her cell phone was face up on the bedside table, quiet and dark. She pressed her thumb to unlock it. The only unread mail was work-related. Nothing from Liam—of course, he was in the woods. And nothing from Daniel, but that was…expected?
She shrugged and smoothed her hand over the empty page of her sketchbook, more inclined to make a list or let her mind meander than to draw. The box of pencils she’d last used her first morning at the resort was a mess, so she re-ordered them by color and sharpened the ones that were dull. And when she finished with that, the blank expanse of white in front of her continued to offer nothing by way of inspiration.
The television on the desk at her feet presented a possibility, but she’d never been a TV watcher and had no desire to start now. And the tub was barely adequate, so a bubble bath was out of consideration. She sighed. The room didn’t appear to care.
Her phone buzzed. Someone cared.
“Where are you?” Elaine texted.
She unlocked her phone again, and texted back, “Hotel in Vancouver. Missed the last ferry. Home tomorrow.”
“Want to talk?”
She dropped her hands to her lap, let her gaze roam the room. She wasn’t ready to talk, not yet, not even to her best friend. “Lunch tomorrow?”
“My treat,” texted Elaine, followed by a kissy-face emoji. That tugged a smile out of Anna. She ended their back and forth with the same emoji, got out of bed, got her laptop and its cord, and made a cup of mint tea from the selection provided by the hotel.
Elaine’s text jogged her memory.
Her friend had tossed a business idea on the table, and they hadn’t talked about it since. And not only was Elaine not prone to making idle offers of financial backing or business partnering, she was one of those people who made small businesses work. Anna opened her laptop once she settled in the pillow throne of her bed and signed on to her email. She’d
