Chapter 20

 

~ ANNIE ~

 

 

This is completely unfair to my heart.

There should be some kind of a rule when it comes to hot, single men: No hanging around cute little kids because the sight of it makes a woman’s knees turn to Jell-O.

Cam has Stella wrapped up in his arms with a new stuffed whale toy in her grasp. It’s only late afternoon, but all the fresh ocean air from a whale sightseeing cruise has sapped the little girl’s energy.

The way he holds her, as if she is the most precious thing on the face of the earth, absolutely makes my insides melt. And I dare to think: he’s going to be a great dad one day.

That’s when the hormones start pumping.

Not those hormones that make me want to tear off his clothes have unbridled sex. (Well, those ones, too.) But the other ones that make me want to build a nest and have kids. It’s not something that should be allowed for a girl like me. Not while I’m hiding out from a life I left behind—so far from the plans I laid out for myself.

When I’m with him, I have to remind myself that it’s been my goal to return to the mainland one day, to put my application in for a teacher’s assistant somewhere else, and get my master’s at any one of the many schools in the D.C. area.

But right now, as we walk back to the car, Cam takes my hand with his free one and with that small gesture, he claims my heart. And I don’t want to go back.

Not that I have a choice right now, anyway.

He lowers her into the back seat of his car and snaps her into her child seat.

“I’m going to name her Chloe,” she says mid-yawn, barely opening her eyes as she squeezes her stuffed whale close to her chest. “I love her.”

“Good. I thought it was time Starlight the Unicorn got a friend,” he says, brushing a kiss to the top of her head just as she appears to drift to sleep.

He shuts the door as gently as possible and joins me in the front seat of the car. After pulling onto the main road, he takes my hand for a brief squeeze. “I’m not sure who seemed happier to see those whales. You or Stella,” he whispers.

“I think it was me. As much as I’ve enjoyed watching them from the shore, I’ve never actually seen them from a boat. Thanks for taking me, Cam.”

“My pleasure. I’m surprised you didn’t go with that family you stayed with while you were here. It’s such a family-friendly type of thing to do.”

I sigh. “Well, they went once. But I stayed behind.”

“Ouch.”

“No—that’s normal. It’s important for families to get some alone time, you know? Away from the nanny. That way when they transition back to their lives without me, it won’t seem too unusual.”

His eyes narrow thoughtfully. “I never thought about it like that before. That must have been strange, you know? To be acting like a part of the family, but not really a part of it.”

Something in my gut pangs slightly. It was hard, and it feels good to have it acknowledged by someone.

“You fall in love sometimes,” I admit. “With the kids. Sometimes with the whole family. And you always have to say good-bye in the end. That’s why I wanted to go into teaching, eventually. To be able to be a part of kids’ lives without actually living with them. To put a little distance between my work life and my real life. The Shimozatos were my first, you know? And when I had to say good-bye to them, I knew that being a nanny for too much longer would kill me. That’s when I decided to take a nanny job in D.C. so I could go to night classes there.”

“Do you keep in touch with the Shimozatos?”

“Oh, yeah. Not a lot, but Christmas cards and a few emails. The kids are growing so fast. But they still look thick as thieves. Like you and your brothers. I loved that. Always wished I had brothers or sisters.”

“What about your parents? You never talk about them.”

“Oh, when I was growing up, they were great.” I shrug. “We don’t keep in very close contact since I left Missouri, though. We email and text. Maybe a call once a month. I think they thought I’d always stick around there. Most of my classmates from school did. You know, bloom where they were planted. I think that disappointed them. And then the whole D.C. thing happened. I’m not sure if they believe me sometimes. They say they do, but I can hear something in their voices. That flicker of doubt, you know?” I cut myself off, remembering the little girl in the back seat. I glance behind me, only to see her enjoying an unscheduled nap.

“Yeah, that must have be rough,” Cam says.

I offer a slight nod. “There was this part of me that just wanted them to say, ‘Come home, honey.’ You know—to feel like I had someplace to just retreat to. But they said pretty much the opposite. It was more like, ‘Stay away. This is a small town and tongues are already wagging over it.’”

From the corner of my eye, I see his frown.

“They might just be trying to protect you,” he tells me.

I stare wordlessly out the windshield for a moment, thinking. “Maybe. I’ve thought of that myself, actually. But there’s this part of me that wants…” I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

“I get it,” he says, surprising me.

“You do?” I scoff. “Then would you mind explaining it to me?”

He grins. “We’re all just little kids on the inside, wanting to go home when things get tough. Hell, even me. Ranger School and countless missions with the Regiment and there’s still this little kid inside of me that wants my parents to shield me from the world like they did when I was a kid.” He pauses. “When I was a first lieutenant, I was engaged. Briefly. She left me while I was deployed. And my first instinct was to go home and sulk in my room for a week the first time I had leave.”

“And did you?”

“Yep. Gained ten pounds in one week. No kidding. Eating nothing but mom’s stew and drinking crappy beer with my dad,” he adds.

“Is that why you say you’ll never settle down?”

His head tilts thoughtfully. “Guess so. After that, the idea of it just never appealed.” He takes my hand. “Call me selfish, but I’m glad you ended up here for a while.”

For a while. I don’t disregard those words. Ten minutes later, I’m still playing them over in my head as he walks me to the door of my car and brushes a light kiss to my cheek as he holds a sleeping Stella in his arms.

“See you tomorrow?”

Taking in the sight of him one last time—it will have to hold me over till tomorrow—I nod before I retreat to my car. My heart is full and warm and dangerously needy for a girl who keeps saying she wants to leave this island as soon as she can.

I pull off to the Foodland parking lot and dial Sam.

She answers with, “You know, when you return to D.C., I might actually get a full night’s sleep again.”

My eyes flash with guilt until I look at my watch and do a quick calculation. “Since when do you go to bed this early?”

“Since it started raining four days ago nonstop here, making me want to curl up and sleep all day. I swear, I hate this city in the rain. So, what’s up in sunny paradise?”

For a moment, I contemplate before speaking, deciding to skip telling her that it’s sunny as always here on the Kona side of the island, and that I’ve spent my day bobbing around on a catamaran looking at whales. “I’m falling into dangerous territory here, Sam,” I say instead.

“You’re falling for him.” She states it as a fact. Not a question.

“Hard not to. How do I keep reminding myself that I’m not sticking around here?”

She sighs. “Look, I don’t want to ask the obvious, but why the hell not?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’d love for you to come back here—believe me. But it’s wet and miserable right now, so I’m having a hard time kind of selling it to you.”

“I can’t live here. I can’t even get a job here.”

“But you’re starting a business,” she counters. “That’s something.”

“I want to get my master’s.”

“So get it online.”

“But—” I pause, trying to push away the image of him holding Stella today. “I’m just fooling myself. He’s not looking for anything serious. He made that pretty clear.”

For a while. Wasn’t that what he just said?

“You’re sure?”

“Painfully sure.”

She sighs on the other end. “Well, then don’t get too use to that sunshine. Because it’s dark and cloudy here in our nation’s capital. And when you come back here, I don’t want to hear you complaining about it.”