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The villa’s deck, with its lantern-lit ambiance and uninterrupted view of the endless water, is nothing short of breathtaking.
Dinner is already set when we step outside—pristine white linens, polished silverware, and a spread of fresh, island-caught delicacies: grilled lobster, seared tuna, garlic butter shrimp, and a variety of vibrant tropical fruits and salads. The kind of meal most people would pay a fortune for at a five-star resort, and here, it’s just another night in paradise.
Robbie is already seated, his small fingers eagerly reaching for a slice of grilled pineapple as he chatters animatedly about his “treasure hunt” on the beach earlier. I take my seat across from him, prepared to half-listen while eating, but my focus shifts entirely the moment Annie steps onto the deck.
She moves with effortless grace, like she belongs here—like the island has already claimed her as its own.
The warm light of the lanterns catches in the soft waves of her hair, which has lightened slightly after just a day in the sun. Her skin already holds the faintest hint of a golden glow, and then there’s the dress.
It’s a shade somewhere between coral and deep rose, the kind of color that would stand out on anyone else but seems like it was made just for her. The fabric flows over her body like water, cinching at the waist, the neckline dipping just enough to reveal a teasing hint of collarbone and the top of her cleavage. Thin straps rest against sun-kissed shoulders, and for a second, I wonder—did she make this one too?
I clench my jaw, dragging my eyes back to my plate. This trip is going to be dangerous for me.
She pulls out her chair and settles in, reaching for her glass—water, I note.
“No wine?” I ask, raising a brow. “Or fruity drinks with umbrellas?”
She glances up, offering a small smile. “I figured I should probably stick to water or ginger ale until my stomach settles completely.”
I study her for a moment, remembering the way she’d bolted for the plane’s bathroom as soon as the seatbelt light turned off. She’d looked better after landing, but still, she’s never mentioned whether flying had always made her sick or if it was just a one-time thing.
“Are you still feeling sick?” I ask, lowering my voice slightly.
“Not really,” she admits, swirling the ice in her glass. “I just don’t want to risk it.”
Conversation flows easily from there, mostly led by Robbie, who is still riding the high of being in a completely new place.
He goes on about the shells he found, the tiny fish he saw darting through the shallows, and how tomorrow he’s going to build “the biggest sandcastle ever.”
Annie listens intently, nodding along, asking questions, encouraging him. And I find myself watching her more than I should.
She’s good with him. Better than I ever expected.
It shouldn’t surprise me at this point, but it does.
Maybe because, for the longest time, I never thought anyone could step into Robin’s shoes—not as Robbie’s mother, but as someone he’d trust.
He’s always been so reserved, so hesitant around new people. And yet, with Annie, it’s different. It has been since the moment they met, even if I wasn’t around to see it.
The thought lingers as dinner winds down. Robbie, full and tired, leans heavily against Annie’s arm, his eyelids drooping.
She smiles down at him, smoothing his curls back. “Looks like someone’sready for bed.”
Robbie mumbles something incoherent, barely clinging to consciousness. I push back my chair and stand, moving around the table to scoop him up before he can protest. He doesn’t. He just curls into me, one small hand gripping the front of my shirt.
“I’ll take him up,” I say quietly.
Annie stands as well, her dress shifting fluidly with the motion. “I’ll come too.”
We walk through the terrace doors into the villa, the warm night air following us inside. The halls are quiet, the only sound the faint crash of waves outside and the soft hum of the ceiling fans.
Robbie stirs slightly in my arms as we reach his room, his brows furrowing. “Rexy,” he murmurs sleepily.
“I’ve got him, bud,” Annie says, grabbing the stuffed dinosaur from his bed before turning back to us.
I lower Robbie onto the mattress, his small body instantly sinking into the plush bedding. Annie kneels beside him, tucking the blanket around him and placing Rexy into his waiting arms.
His lashes flutter, and for a moment, it looks like he’s going to stay awake. Then his grip on the stuffed toy slackens, and just like that, he’s out.