Page 68

“Can we go to the caves now?” she asks excitedly.
I laugh, finding humor in her misplaced sense of time. “We can, but after breakfast, sweetie.”
I’m looking forward to being out of the house and I’m desperate for a distraction. I need to stay far away from Jett, and I need to calm down.
And figure out how I’ll ever face him again.
We head to the Crystal Caves right after breakfast. One of the drivers takes us there, and I’m secretly relieved to have the day with just Brooke.
It feels good—refreshing, actually—to focus solely on Brooke, pushing all thoughts of Jett out of my mind. Brooke’s innocent excitement is endearing. She makes me want to protect her and make her smile. I want her to enjoy this vacation, and I want the memory of the situation at Madison’s to fade away. I managed to get Celine’s number from Jett and I’m hoping to call her at some point to arrange a play date with Brooke and Zara, but for now, it’s just me and Brooke.
I tell her briefly what I know, what I’ve looked up about the caves—it’s an underground wonderland, formed millions of years ago. The air is cool and damp inside, and Brooke’s eyes are wide as we stare at the underground lake at the heart of the cave. It’s amazingly clear, the still surface reflecting the ethereal beauty of the formations above. Soft lighting illuminates the crystals, casting sparkling reflections across the water.
“Oooohhhh,” she murmurs. She reaches for my hand, and together we stand, enchanted and in silent wonder. We observe the shimmering stalactites suspended from the ceiling like delicate chandeliers and the pointy stalagmites that rise from the cave floor, some almost meeting to form columns.
I feel as if I'm in another world down here. Brooke gazes wide-eyed, her voice echoing softly as she marvels at the natural artistry carved over millennia.
We take our time going around slowly. Later, we sit down at a picnic table, outside a small row of shops.
“They were breathtaking, weren’t they?” I unpack some sandwiches and open a plastic container of chopped fruit. Then I set out two bottles of water. “What did you you think?”
Brooke turns to me with those big, curious eyes of hers. “I wish you were my mommy.”
The question slaps me hard. She didn’t even hear my question, or even if she did, this thought must have been percolating around inside her head to come tumbling out the way it did. I blink at her, completely thrown off guard. “Oh, sweetie …” I want to tell her that only her mommy can be her mommy, but I’m scared she’ll ask more questions, and I won’t have the right answers.
“You’re prettier and nicer than all the other mommies,” she says innocently, her voice full of conviction.
My heart squeezes tightly at her words. What thoughts are going through her mind? She’s so young, but she’s growing up and is naturally curious. It’s only to be expected that she’ll have questions. Then, just as casually, she asks, “Do you know where my mommy is?”
I’m stunned, not sure how to respond. I didn’t expect this conversation—not today, not here. I’ve always seen Brooke as this bright, happy little girl, but there’s so much more going on beneath the surface. I try to gather my thoughts, but all I can think is that I need to talk to Jett. I smooth down her hair, plaster on a smile I don’t feel and tell her, “I’m not sure, sweetie.”
“Daddy doesn’t tell me.”
“Have you asked him?”
She nods, her big doleful eyes looking at me for answers. “He looks sad when I ask him, so I don’t ask him now.”
We can’t avoid this anymore. Brooke’s asking questions, and it’s clear she deserves answers. I need to figure out what to say to her, which means I need to speak to Jett.
“Oh, Brooke.” I hug her as she clutches her beloved elephant to her chest. She takes it with her everywhere, along with a small knapsack filled with some dolls. “I …”
I wish I could give you the answers you deserve. But instead I say, “I was thinking that it might be nice for you and Zara to have a play date. Would you like that?” I avoid the subject like a coward.
She nods enthusiastically, her questions and worries zapped out of her mind. I feel like I’ve failed her, but I’m determined to talk to Jett about this. “Okay, sweetie. I’ll see what I can do. Let’s finish our lunch, shall we?”
After lunch, I call the driver. I’ve been granted the privilege of calling him whenever we need him. As the SUV pulls up, the driver steps out and opens the door for us.
We climb inside and my heart stumbles at the sight of Jett.
What is he doing here?
Brooke lights up at the sight of him. She sits between us, and I feel a sense of relief. My heart thumps like I’ve just done a sprint. Jett looks at me, causing the air to be sucked right from my lungs. We acknowledge each other with only a nod.
I try to regulate my breathing as the memory of last night’s flirtatious conversation buzzes in my mind. Jett, on the other hand, is cool as ever, like nothing happened. He greets Brooke warmly, pulling her into a hug, but his eyes linger on me for a moment too long. It’s the same look from last night, and I can feel the heat rushing to my cheeks.
As always, he looks devastatingly handsome, still in his business suit. The air between us feels thick, charged with everything unspoken. Brooke’s excitement barely cuts through the tension as she playfully sits on his lap, animatedly recounting our day.
I’m no Grace Kelly. I have no icy indifference to make me appear nonchalant and cool. I’m more likely to trip over my emotions and lie face down in embarrassment. I’m an open book, as easily read as a children’s story—simple, with no hidden meanings.