Page 3 of Until August
Yeah, I needed to go. I’d been dealt enough harsh blows for one day. “I’ll go.” I held up my hands in surrender, but I wasn’t leaving until I got what I had come for. “Just as soon as you tell me when I can see him.”
She chewed on her bottom lip. “I need some time to think about this.”
Time? How much more time did she need?
“Do you have your phone? Take my number.” When she made no move to get her phone, I made a final plea, “You can’t keep him away from me forever. He’s my boy. I’ve loved him from the minute he was born. Even before he was born. And I made him a promise. You remember that?”
“Oh, I remember. I remember everything. The question is, do you?” Her eyes flashed with anger. “Because youbrokeall your promises.”
I ignored her words and forged on. “It’s not too late. All I want to do is spend some time with him. Just give me another chance to make it right. Please, Sasha.” I was practically on my knees, begging.
Her shoulders sagged. “I hate you,” she whispered.
That made two of us. I let out a weary sigh. “I know.”
She turned from the door and returned a few seconds later, phone in hand. “What’s your number?”
I reeled it off and watched her enter the digits, but her hand was shaking, and she kept messing up the number.
I held out my hand and wiggled my fingers. “Hand it over.”
With a sigh of resignation, she gave me her phone. After I entered my number, I handed it back to her. “Call me.”
“Just promise you’ll leave now, and you won’t make any more surprise visits, and I’ll think about it.” When I didn’t respond, she raised her brows, prompting me to accept her terms.
“Promise.”
“Swear on your son’s life.”
I let out a sigh of exasperation. My word used to be good enough, but like so many things, that had changed too. “I swear on my son’s life.”
“If I see you anywhere near him without my permission, if I see you anywhere near this house, I’ll call the cops and slap a restraining order on you. Happy birthday, August.” The door slammed in my face.
Yeah, happy fucking birthday to me. Fittingly, it was April first. Once again, the joke was on me.
I heard the locks sliding into place as I walked away, feeling like I’d just been rag-dolled by a killer wave, and washed up on the beach.
I vaulted the security fence because fuck it and slid behind the wheel of my pickup, praying like hell that she wouldn’t try to keep my son from me. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the money to fight a legal battle.
But with any luck, she’d remember the good, not all the bad, and the scales would tip in my favor.
Either way, I was in Costa del Rey to stay.
CHAPTERTWO
August
Two WeeksLater
“David is thrilled to have you in his kitchen,” Kristen said as I poured water into the pot of beef marrow and added the ginger and onion I’d charred earlier.
“I can’t believe he let me in his kitchen.”
Last week, I came in for a bowl of pho. When David saw me, he brought me every item on the menu. The broth was rich and savory and meaty, the flavors fresh and clean with just the right amount of heat, and everything was perfectly cooked.
Ten minutes after eating, I talked my way into their kitchen and told them I’d work for free.
“Are you kidding?” Kristen plunged her cucumber ribbons into an ice water bath and stowed the container in a low boy under the counter. “I’ve been hearing about the infamous August Harper for years.”
