Page 23 of The Uncomplicated Café
Another less pleasant memory forced its way to the forefront of her thoughts. Her father on a phone call, wheeling a suitcase toward the front door. Not yet six, she’d run after him, tearfully pleading, tugging on his leg, begging him to stay. Distracted and agitated, his phone pressed to his ear, he hadn’t said a word. He’d merely gestured to her mother, who’d knelt on the floor beside her, cooing in a consoling voice while she’d pried her fingers loose. That first expedition had lasted six months. And she’d cried herself to sleep for half of them, agonizing over a question she could barely understand at that age, let alone articulate.
Why wasn’t I enough to make you stay?
Although she’d learned long ago how to put words to her wound, she couldn’t bring herself to speak them now. How could she verbalize the question aloud when her father wasn’t the only man she wanted to ask?
Jayce drew her closer, wrapping both arms around her, holding her tightly as she cried.
He’d never know half her tears belonged to her father.
And the other half belonged to him.
Chapter Fourteen
ABBY
Abby stared blanklyinto her coffee cup, oblivious to the aromatic tendrils of steam wafting above the rim. Normally, she reveled in her morning routine, from sipping her favorite full-bodied Kenyan roast to preparing a gourmet breakfast for her guests. But today, not even assembling a lavish room service tray for Mystery Man—aka Thomas Maineland—could focus her fractured thoughts.
Max would come home from camp tomorrow. She couldn’t wait to see him, but his homecoming also reminded her that she had no idea what to do about the future. Should they do whatever it took to pursue adoption, to give him a stable home and family? Or did she need to be more patient?
“Thinking about how to handle the situation with Max?” Logan entered the kitchen, fresh off a seven-mile run along the coastline. His skin glistened with sweat, and his blue eyes gleamed bright from the exertion.
“Is it that obvious?” She attempted a wry smile.
“It’s all I can think about, too.” He poured himself a tall glass of filtered water from the fridge, gulped half, then set the rest on the counter. Facing her with a steady gaze he said, “I think we should do it.”
“Do what?” she asked hesitantly, too afraid to hope.
“I think we should pursue an expedited presumption of death for Sam Bailey.”
“You do?” Her pulse quickened, and she suddenly felt lightheaded, her emotions swinging between joy and uncertainty.
“I was praying hard on my run, and I kept having the same thought: We’ve had so many close calls. Between a fake great-aunt and Carla having to pull strings with the foster care system so Max can stay with us, I don’t want to risk losing our son to some phony relative, filing error, or flaw in the legal system. I want us all—me, you, and Max—to have security and assurance. And I think adoption is the best route to gain that certainty. What do you think?”
Her heart swelled.Our son. Had sweeter words ever been spoken? Too overcome with emotion to speak, she bobbed her head in a vigorous nod.
Logan beamed and swept her into his embrace.
She clung to him, arms wrapped around his neck, feet dangling above the floor, undeterred by his slick T-shirt or musky post-workout scent. Nothing could dampen this moment of joy and relief.
As he pulled back, Logan’s smile vanished. “I know we’re both excited by the possibility of moving forward, but we should try to regulate our expectations. The court might deny our request.”
“I know.”
“And there’s still a chance the process will be really hard on Max.”
The reality of his comment sobered her instantly.
He lowered her feet back to the floor, and her deflated emotions followed. “But you still think we should go through with it?”
“I think if we don’t, we’re only postponing the inevitable. Sam’s been missing for months. Even if he survived the storm, which would’ve required a miracle, he would’ve come back for Max by now.”
“That’s true.” She’d come to the same conclusion many times. Although Max and his father hadn’t lived in Blessings Bay for very long, and no one in town knew Sam Bailey well, he appeared to be a good father. At least, Max thought the world of him and often spoke about his dad as if he were some sort of superhero.
In fact, from the photo the authorities had circulated online in their attempt to locate Sam after his disappearance, he looked a lot like Jason Momoa in the Aquaman film—tall, muscular, and burly, with long dark hair and a bushy beard.
When Abby added Sam’s skills as an avid sailor and swimmer, plus his affinity for the ocean and sea life—just like the aquatically inclined superhero—Max’s father loomed larger than life in her imagination.
“So,” Logan prompted, interrupting her wandering thoughts. “Should we call Carla and tell her we’ve made a decision?”
