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Sadie’s legs nearly buckled at his easy and open gesture.
He pulled back, unaware of the emotional earthquake he was causing, and looked at Quin. ‘Papa, can I show Sadie my classroom?’
‘Sure, let’s go.’
Sol took Sadie’s hand and pulled her towards the school. A woman who must be a teacher was standing talking in the doorway and Sol said, ‘Miss Diaz, this is my friend Sadie. I’m showing her my classroom.’
‘Okay, Sol, that’s fine.’
The woman smiled at Sadie, and then seemed to do a double take when she saw her similarity with Sol. Sadie pretended she hadn’t noticed.
Quin stayed behind, talking to the teacher, and Sadie savoured every second with her son, chattering nineteen to the dozen as he showed her where he sat, where his locker was, and where he put his shoes and which artwork was his.
When they got back to the house Sol was despatched to change out of his school clothes and Sadie finally met Sara the housekeeper—a friendly, no-nonsense woman. Roberto had left snacks, and when Quin disappeared to his home office to make some calls Sadie sat with Sol and ate them, helping him with the little piece of homework he’d brought home.
She was so engrossed that at first she didn’t notice when Quin arrived back into the main living area. He’d changed into board shorts and a T-shirt. He looked like the man she’d first met, and her heart flipped over in her chest.
She realised then that he was looking at her with a strange expression—as if he’d never seen her before, or as if she was about to do something outrageous.
His gaze went to Sol. He said, ‘Enough books—let’s get outside and play some football.’
Sol was outside like a shot.
Quin looked at Sadie. ‘Are you coming?’
The way he said that, so easily, made something cave inside her. Some of the wall she’d erected to protect herself in the last few years. It had been the only way she could survive.
‘Okay,’ Sadie said quickly, and tried to hide how pathetically seismic it felt to be invited to play with her son.
She stood up.
‘I’ll just change into something a bit more casual.’
When she went down to the guesthouse she found Sara putting away the new clothes that must have just been delivered.
Mortified, she protested, ‘Please, don’t. I can put them away myself.’
The woman smiled. ‘It’s no problem...it’s almost done.’
Sadie sat on the bed when Sara was gone and looked into the dressing room, now full of brand-new clothes. And then she noticed something hanging at the back...a glimmer of...gold.
She got up and went into the room, reaching for the glimmer, sucking in a breath when she pulled out the stunning gold dress. It slid through her fingers like liquid. It must be a mistake. Sadie made a note to let Quin know. She had no doubt a dress like that must have cost a fortune. Even she recognised the designer’s name, and she’d been more or less living under a rock for the last half a decade.
There was a shout from outside and Sadie went through to the main living area to see a red-faced Sol, standing in the door with mud streaked across his legs.
‘What’s taking you so long?’
The dress was forgotten as a surge of emotion gripped Sadie, bright and pure. But she managed to get out a strangled-sounding, ‘Nothing...give me one minute.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
QUINCOULDN’TFOCUSon the game. He missed another pass from Sol, who groaned. But Quin’s vision was filled with a pair of long, shapely pale legs, expertly dribbling the ball to the goal, followed in hot pursuit by Sol.
Sadie was wearing short denim shorts and a loose T-shirt, which she’d not long before carelessly tied up into a knot at her waist, revealing the smooth skin of her back and lower belly. Her hair was pulled up into a messy knot, tendrils escaping. No make-up, just a sweaty face.
Something in Quin’s chest ached, and he absently put his hand there, as if he could soothe it. He realised that in this moment Sadie looked more or less exactly as he remembered her when they’d first met. But that had been before she’d walked away from him and her newborn son and all the good memories had become toxic.
And yet...as much as he’d love to cling on to that outrage and anger, as he had for the last few years, cultivating it like a cold, hard diamond in his chest, he knew he couldn’t. Not now that heknew. Not now that his friend had told him Sadie had had nothing to do with the gang. She’d been an unwitting bystander, caught in the crossfire. Living on the run to stay safe. To stay alive.