If I stayed near him, I’d drown myself in deeper trouble.
I needed to quit, and it was time to tell him.
18
Sarah
My heart hammered while I cuddled with Joshua and carried him to the galley to get him a bottle.
He hadn't experienced that painful gas since the switch to bottled breast milk, and since we had a freezer full now, he’d be set.
And since they didn’t need me or my advice, they’d both be okay. And it wasn’t like I could leave an island in the next few days, anyway.
The only thing quitting would affect was the dancing he enjoyed so much. Even that, though, was just for fun, so I didn’t need to worry. He'd be fine.
And I’d have to keep my knees together long enough to get back to New York and beg to get my job back at the diner.
Life wasn’t fun in my black and white world, but my heart was safer.
I warmed the bottle and made my way up to the main room we used all day yesterday.
The air felt warmer here, so I guessed we were closer to our target.
The door to the practice area for dancing and breakfast opened on the other side and I smiled in spite of myself. Cyrus was deadly handsome, and for a second, I couldn’t breathe.
Then the baby in my arms started crying. I rocked him, but said, “Joshua wants his dad.”
Cyrus offered his finger, and his son held it tight as he said, “Baba.”
I adjusted my body to show him, and also said, “I brought the bottle.”
He laughed and genuinely smiled at his little one, saying, “No, I want him to call mebabawhen he starts talking.”
“Why?”
Cyrus made a cute baby sound and then met my gaze, “Because that’s what I called my father when I was little.”
Ahh. My face burned. I wasn’t thinking. I swallowed and then said, “That’s sweet.”
He stroked his son’s head and said, “Joshua enjoys being in your arms. Can you handle it for a little while longer while I get the staff to set our breakfast?”
Maybe I should stay and help. I understood as I stood looking at his lips that the problem was me and my habit of running when things got uncomfortable—not Cyrus.
Then I nodded and said, “Of course but I need to tell you...”
My voice trailed off. I wasn’t going to leave him and the baby. I wasn’t sure if staying was right, but I couldn’t leave. For once I held my tongue near him.
He blinked and asked, “Tell me what?”
My mind raced. Life as a waitress had cluttered my brain with kind of things people asked for at breakfast. Finally, I said, “I hope there are avocadoes for my toast.”
“I will ask,” he said, and winked.
I watched him leave and I sighed. I wasn’t sure if I just made the right decision, but I need to stop running away from a past that so far had stopped me from living.
19
Sarah