“You liked her once, didn’t you?”
The stark question hung in the air. “Your mother, you mean?”
“Yes. You liked her once. You liked her enough to make me. Maybe you could like her enough to bring her back, and stick around long enough for her to change her status. It wouldn’t be hard. I looked it up on the Internet, and the forms are even on the Immigration and Naturalization Web site. You just fill them out and send them in. I know it can be done.”
“You can’t believe everything you read on the Internet.”
“What about what you said before?” Desperation edged AJ’s voice now. “You said you’d do anything for me.”
“I should have qualified it—I’ll do anything legal and ethical.”
“This is legal. I need to be with my mom. Tell me you’ll at least think about it.” AJ sank down on one of the beds and grabbed a pillow. The massive bed made him look tiny and bereft.
Bo went down on one knee in front of him, touched his shoulder. “Your mom’s lucky to have you, AJ, she really is. And the two of you are going to be together soon, that’s a promise.”
“Does that mean you’ll do it? You’ll get married to her?”
“It means I’ll keep working as hard as I know how to find a solution to this.”
“I found the solution.”
“You found a rumor on the Web. I’ll ask Sophie about it, okay? That’s what I’ll do.”
AJ crushed the pillow against his chest. “You’re gonna wrinkle your pants.”
Bo stood up, brushed a kiss on the boy’s head, and the gesture felt as natural as if he’d been doing it forever. He wished he could inhale all of the kid’s pain and carry it away somewhere.
Then his mobile phone chirped—a text message from Kim: Showtime. He was quickly finding out that one of the hardest things about being a parent was being pulled in different directions from moment to moment. He stuck the phone in his pocket. “I have to head downstairs, buddy. You go ahead and order room service and a pay-per-view movie, anything you want. I’ll be in the ballroom. You call me if you need anything, anything at all.”
“I’m not hungry,” AJ muttered. “You know what I need.”
Bo grazed the boy’s cheek lightly with his knuckles, hiding his terror that his son was fading away before his eyes. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
AJ nodded, hunching his shoulders, diminished. His gaze went to the photograph in the plastic sleeve, which lay on the nightstand. He brought the photo of his mother everywhere he went. It killed Bo that AJ only had the one photo.
“We’ll figure this out,” Bo said. “You’re gonna be all right.” The words felt empty and false. He studied his son’s face, and saw the truth there: AJ was not all right. His heart was broken. He wasn’t going to be all right until he was reunited with his mother.
Here was something Bo hadn’t understood until AJ came into his life—that the hardest thing about being a father was seeing your kid hurting, and knowing you’d do anything to make it stop. And not being able to stop the hurt? Well, that was pure frustration. The boy’s suffering would go on and on unless…
Bo’s stomach was in knots as he made his way down the hall to the elevators. On the way, he phoned Sophie to ask if it was possible, what AJ suggested. “I know it sounds crazy, but I have to know, is it true? If I marry her, can she come back to the States?”
“Yes, but it’s a very involved process…” She mentioned a residency requirement, a provisional visa and a two-year period to make certain the marriage was legitimate. Obviously, she’d already studied this possibility.
“Why didn’t you say anything to me before?” he asked.
“It didn’t seem like a good option for you. Bo—”
“But it’s an option,” he said.
“Yes, but—”
That was all he needed to hear. A yes from Sophie.
“Look into it for me. I’ll call you later,” he said, ringing off as the elevator arrived.
He stepped on board, nodding a greeting to a diminutive Filipino man whose name badge identified him as Timbô. “Evening,” Bo said, trying to shift gears. He had to do a good job at this reception for AJ’s sake, as well as his own.
“Good evening, sir,” the attendant said. The elevator descended a couple of floors, and when the doors parted, there was Kim.
She looked like something out of a dream. Her long, fitted gown reminded Bo of the first time he’d ever laid eyes on her. She’d seemed so out of reach that day, yet now here she was, making him feel like the luckiest guy on earth. And just like that, he shifted gears. Knowing she was here made everything possible. “You look amazing,” he said, bending to kiss her cheek, catching a waft of fragrance.
“Likewise,” she replied. Then she addressed Timbô. “Did your phone call work?” she asked him.
“Yes, madam. My wife and I talked for one hour,” Timbô said with a happy smile, stepping aside so they could exit to the lobby. “Have a good evening, Miss van Dorn.”
“You’re a marriage counselor, too?” Bo asked her.
“They’ve been apart for a year,” she explained. “I showed him how to make an overseas phone call using a free service on the Internet. It’s just too sad, thinking about them being apart so long.”
Bo flashed on what that would be like—loving someone, but separated, unable to see or touch her. He wished they were alone instead of in a crowded hotel. There was so much he wanted to tell her. So much that he loved her for. He loved her because she did things that were hard, things she didn’t want to do, for all the right reasons. He loved her because she had not just made him into a professional athlete. Like AJ, she’d made him into a better man. He even loved her
