Page 131 of Until August
I nodded. “Yep. Because you were the best gift I’ve ever gotten. And now you’ve given me some of my best memories. And I just want you to know that wherever I am and wherever you are, nothing will ever change how much I love you. Not a day has passed since you were born that I didn’t think about you.”
He nodded. “I’m kind of hard to forget.”
I laughed softly. “You sure are. So when you’re in Hawaii, I’ll be thinking about you every day, and I’ll find a way to see you as much as possible, okay? I’ll always find a way to get to you, Sage.”
“Oh. Okay. But we’re not moving to Hawaii.”
“Surprise.”
I looked over at Travis standing in the doorway. That son of a bitch. He had a big grin on his face. “Why didn’t you say something, asshole?”
“Watch the language, asshole.”
“Does that mean I can say asshole too?” Sage piped up.
“No,” Travis and I said in unison.
“Why not?”
“Because you’re a kid,” I said.
“Oh, man. Kids can’t do anything,” he complained. “I can’t get a tattoo. I can’t say asshole. I can’t drink beer. I can’t drive. I can’t even kiss Isla until I’m like thirty-five,” he said glumly. “Her dad said so.”
Travis and I exchanged a look. “Isla?” I asked. “Isla St. Clair?”
His eyes lit up. “You know her?”
“No. But I met her parents and helped bake her birthday cake.”
“Oh wow. Shelovedthat cake. Hey. Maybe you can helpmebake her a cake? I bet she’d like that.”
I laughed. My son was already well-versed in grand romantic gestures. Nicola will love this story. “Yeah, sure.” Then I focused on Travis, needing confirmation. “You’re really not moving?”
“We’ve decided to stay.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“I hate to see a grown man beg. Now get out of my house and take your son with you. I’m going surfing.”
Asshole.
But I couldn’t remember a time when I was this happy. When everything felt right in my life.
I wasn’t losing my son. I had a job I loved. And a woman who believed in me.
What more could a man ask for?
CHAPTERFORTY-SIX
Nicola
August was happy.Both the man and the month.
We were hit with a California heat wave. Days were scorching hot, the nights sultry. The kitchen had to be at least a hundred degrees. We soaked our kitchen towels in ice water baths and wore them around our necks.
The restaurant was packed every night, and we were getting a lot of media attention from bloggers, social media influencers, and critics.
We’d taken our food to a whole other level, and every dish left the kitchen looked like a work of art.
