“I know, man,” said Connor. “It’s crazy. I love you, man.”
“I love you too,” Dalton said to his cousin.
We were quiet for a minute, everyone staring at Dalton.
My mother began to cry. “This is so beautiful,” she sniffed.
Jake waved for the waitress, then turned back to Connor with a grin. “I remember now, I did meet your mother a few times, back before things got real bad with your family. I’m fairly certain I didn’t bang her. Not my type, really.”
My father cleared his throat. “And what rare kind of woman, pray tell, is not your type?”
Jake seemed surprised by the question. “Same as any man. The type who don’t laugh at my jokes.” He looked at Connor pointedly. “And redheads, of course. I’ll never touch a redhead unless I’m being paid.”
“My mother’s a redhead,” Connor explained to the rest of us.
Everyone at the table nodded and visibly relaxed, as if confirmation of her being a redhead was as good as a DNA test, and, based on the rant about redheads Jake launched into next, it was.
The waitress returned, and we all ordered breakfast.
Thankfully, it wasn’t long before the food came to our table and Jake’s attention turned to eating.
As we ate, my mother leaned over to me and said, “How did you sleep? Our room is over the hot tub room, and some drunken idiots were in there singing all night.”
I whispered back, “How awful. Considering how nice this resort is, I’m surprised they let in so much riff-raff.”
My mother giggled. “Like me and your father? I hope you’re not ashamed of us.”
“No, Mom.” I glanced over at Jake, who was regaling everyone with a story about the most notorious redhead in the adult film industry. “You’d have to try hard to outdo Dalton’s family.”
“The cousin seems nice,” she whispered. “Is he single? You should introduce him to Shayla.”
“I’m sure he has plenty of women throwing themselves at him.”
“Sure,” she snorted. “Skinny Hollywood types who don’t eat. These actor types, they need a real woman to anchor them.” She blinked and waved her hands. “No offense meant by the word anchor, but I’ve been reading up on some of these Hollywood marriages, and the ones that last are the ones you don’t see splashed all over the magazines. Like that lady who married the cameraman. They’re still married, right?”
“Julia?”
My mother gasped. “Look at you, calling her by her first name. I’d love to meet her someday. You know we share a birthday, right?”
Someone’s phone started ringing, and everyone reached for their pockets.
“Mine,” called my mother. “Stand down, everyone.”
Dalton’s end of the table went back to their conversation, and my mother checked her phone.
“That doesn’t sound good,” she said.
“Something wrong with Kyle?” A wave of panic washed over me. Here we all were, having a great time at a resort, and he was back home without us, feeling sick.
She frowned and showed the phone to my father. He put down his utensils, and the two of them whispered back and forth.
Dalton held his hand up to quiet his father momentarily, and asked us what was wrong.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” my mother said. “Our son, Kyle, has a fever,” she explained to Connor. “He’s seven.”
“I had no idea,” Dalton said, looking shaken.
“He’s probably fine,” my mother said, her voice betraying her concern with a tremble.
Dalton pushed back from the table. “I’ll call Vern to prepare the plane. You can fly out within the hour.”
She said, “But I don’t want to ruin the rest of the weekend, and everything you have planned.”
“Mom,” he said.
My heart clinched at him calling her that.
He said, “Go and be with your son. We’ve got plenty of time. So much time.”
They argued back and forth for a few minutes, until my father stood and started toward the doorway to the rooms.
I stood as well.
Dalton looked up at me with surprise. “Vern can make two trips. It’s a short flight.”
How could I explain to Dalton that I carried a mother’s guilt with me?
His father and cousin were staring at me with interest.
How could I say that I’d already let Kyle down once by not acknowledging him and getting prenatal care, and that I’d die if I ever let him down again? How could I explain I was as drawn to him because of the fever as my mother was?
I couldn’t explain without telling him the truth—the terrible thing I’d been able to tell the other men I’d been dating, but not Dalton.