And for that afternoon, I let myself believe it, even as some quieter part of me kept circling the beat that had landed late in his laugh.
The fourth afternoon smelled of coconut sunscreen and warm sand. Lily’s small hand tugged at the hem of my beach dress as we walked back toward the resort path.
“Mommy,” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder at Bruce and Jim, who lingered near the water’s edge in low conversation.
I bent slightly, brushing sand from her hair.
A lady came to our room.
“What is it, baby?”
“Mommy… Daddy told me not to tell you what he and Uncle Jim did in our hotel room.”
The words landed like a stone in still water. I kept my face soft, but my chest went tight.
“But you always tell me not to keep secrets from you, Mommy. So I wanted to tell you.”
I knelt in front of her, the hot sand burning against my knees.
“That’s right, sweetheart. You can always tell me anything. What happened?”
Daddy hugged her, Mommy.
