Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113330 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Before Cameron responds, my phone buzzes with a call from my mother. “My mom is calling. Keep me posted.” Without waiting for Cameron’s reply, I end our call and take the incoming one. “Hey, Mom. Everything okay?”
“It’s great. We’re on the plane, and Maverick wanted to say another quick goodbye before it’s time to turn off our phones.”
I head into the bedroom. “Put him on.”
As I sit on the bed, there’s a shuffling noise, followed by the sweetest sound in the world. My son’s voice. “Guess what, Daddy? Grampa let me have anudder Wyan ice!”
“Another one?” I gasp out. The kid devoured Hawaiian ices twice daily this past week.
“Grampa said it was my last hooray.”
God, I love all of my son’s cute Maverickisms. “Grampa always knows best. Enjoy your last ‘hooray,’ buddy.” As a family, we’ve decided not to correct most of Maverick’s cute mispronunciations. As my mother said, he’ll grow out of them soon enough, at which point we’ll miss them dearly.
“Gramma said I can watch a movie on her iPad on da airplane, so I’m gonna watch Cars.”
“Sounds like you’re gonna have a fun flight. I love you, Mav.”
“I love you, too, Daddy.”
Oh, my heart. Hearing those magical words from my son never gets old. “Hey, don’t hang up. Put Gramma back on.”
There’s another shuffle. And then my mother’s voice. “For the record, I wasn’t there when your father bought him that Hawaiian ice. If I’d been there, I would have put a stop to the madness.”
“Don’t be a scrooge, Mom. It was his last ‘hooray.’”
Mom cracks up. “I’ll put that in my journal.” She’s been meticulously keeping a journal about all the cute things her first grandchild says and does, the same way she kept journals about all three of her sons. “Mav said something journal-worthy earlier. He’d just come out of the—” There’s an overhead announcement on Mom’s end of the call. “Oh! They’re closing the doors. I have to hang up. I love you, sweetheart.”
“I love you, too. Thanks for taking Maverick back to his mother for me. I wouldn’t have asked you to do it if this meeting with Coach wasn’t so damned important.”
“We’re delighted to get some one-on-one time with our sweet boy. Keep us posted about the golf meeting, okay?”
“You know I will.”
“Thank you again for booking all those bungalows for the whole family. Everyone had so much fun.”
“It was a blast,” I agree. “We shouldn’t wait for another family wedding to do it again.”
“Although I admit I’m partial to the idea of us getting together again soon for your wedding.”
I roll my eyes. Ever since Maverick came along to show my mother how much she adores being a grandma, she can’t resist dropping hints about how much she wants more grandbabies. Preferably, on purpose next time. Even better if the next baby is born in the context of a committed relationship. Best of all, in the context of an actual marriage. But we both know she’ll take another grandbaby any way she can get one, as long as it’s sooner rather than later.
“I thought you said the doors were closing.”
Mom snorts. “I’ll text you when we land and when we get to Vanessa’s.”
“Thanks. Make sure to thank her for taking such great care of our boy.”
“I will.”
We say our final goodbyes, and I stare out the large bedroom window at the nearby ocean with my phone in my lap. Spending every day and night with Maverick this week made me even more determined to close a deal with the Thunderbolts. But the fact remains, there are too many moving parts for me to make that happen for sure.
Puffing out my cheeks, I get up from the bed, strip off my sweaty gym clothes, and head into the bathroom for a hot shower. I’ve got several days to myself before my scheduled meetup with Coach on Friday, and I’m determined to spend them relaxing, decompressing, and emphatically not thinking about how badly I want to finish out my career in the same city as my incredible son.
Chapter 6
Iris
A grunt hurtles out of me as I lug my suitcase out the back of the Jeep. Why’d I pack so much?
With the car unloaded, I turn and survey the row of beachfront bungalows before me. They’re even prettier in person than online.
As promised, I shoot off quick texts to my family and best friends, letting them know I’ve made it safely to my hotel; and then, off I go with my rolling suitcase toward my home away from home for the week.
When I reach the front door of unit three, I input a code provided in a confirmation email a couple days ago, but it doesn’t work. I try it again, figuring I must have messed up somehow, but I get the same result.
Oh, God. Did Brandon somehow cancel the bungalow? He shouldn’t have been able to do that without notifying me, since my email was used on the reservation. But I wouldn’t put anything past Brandon at this point. I’ve been in such a daze since the wedding, it didn’t occur to me before now Brandon might have tried to sabotage this vacation for me.