Chapter 3 #2
Ocean breeze messed up my hair. I glared at him but couldn't help smiling too. This man always hit that spot where I was both annoyed and amused. "Patrick, has anyone told you this reverse psychology trick is really old?"
"But it works on you." He shrugged, shameless as hell.
There was this weird tension between us, like we bickered but also plotted something huge. Right then, salvation—or rather, the biggest challenge—charged over waving a little shovel.
"Daddy! Avery!" Ethan crashed into the beach like a small cannonball, eyes bright as he held up his red bucket, "Look! I can dig super super deep holes!"
I crouched down almost instinctively, bringing myself to his eye level. "Wow! You're the best shovel engineer I've ever seen!" I pointed at the dinosaur on his bucket. "Is he here to help carry sand?"
Ethan nodded hard, giggling.
Patrick watched us, something soft flickering in his eyes. He crouched too, big hand gently resting on his son's shoulder. "Ethan, Daddy needs your help with something."
The kid turned, little face full of curiosity.
"I need you to call Avery..." Patrick paused, jaw tensing slightly, "...Mom."
The air suddenly froze.
Ethan's eyes went wide, looking at me in confusion, then back at Daddy. "Mom?"
"Yes, because..." Patrick tried to explain, but I saw a flash of unease in the little boy's eyes.
"Wait."
I gently interrupted, and under Patrick's somewhat startled gaze, I crouched down first, meeting Ethan's eyes.
Damn it, Patrick. You can't just barge into a five-year-old's world like that.
"Hey, Ethan," I made my voice soft as ocean breeze, "you know what 'the game of the brave' is?"
He nodded, drawn in by the new concept. "Yeah. I like games!"
"Perfect!" My eyes lit up like I was sharing a huge secret.
"Let's play a special one. In this game, I need to play the role of 'Mom'—like how superheroes have secret identities!
My mission is to protect you. And your mission is to help me keep this secret and protect me, too.
We have to stick together until the end, and the fairy will give the best partners super cool rewards! "
"Wow!" Ethan's eyes widened, "like spies?"
"Cooler than spies! But," I lowered my voice, building tension, "if the bad guys discover our secret, they'll take me away!"
"No! No way!" He immediately shook his head, little hand unconsciously gripping his shovel tighter, "I'll protect you! I'm brave!"
"So, will you join this game and be my partner, Ethan?"
He nodded hard, but then a flash of real hesitation crossed his little face, voice dropping. "But... I don't have a mom. I don't know... how to play it right."
Those words hit my chest like a soft bullet.
"It's okay, baby," I reached out, gently brushing sand from his knee, voice steadier than I expected. "Magical Avery will teach you. And look—" I pulled a gold-wrapped chocolate from the dress's hidden pocket like magic. "The fairy already gave me a pass! Whenever you need it, rewards appear."
Ethan stared at the chocolate, then looked up at me, light gathering in his eyes again. "Really?"
"Really. And if you're shy for now, you can call me Avery, or any name you like. That's our code word, okay?"
He thought it over, then gave a solemn, deep nod. "Yeah!"
"Perfect, my little partner!" I smiled and ruffled his hair. "So our game starts now with building the world's strongest fortress, how's that sound?"
I stood up, dusting sand off my hands. Patrick watched me, that usual in-control expression gone, replaced by something complex, almost tender, ocean light rippling quietly in his eyes.
"What?" I raised an eyebrow, deliberately casual.
"Nothing." He looked away, but that smile he couldn't quite suppress betrayed some emotion.
"Come on, Dada! Avery!" Ethan's already excitedly digging, like that heavy moment never happened, "sand war's starting!"
Then a handful of sand smacked right into me.
"Hey!" I yelped as sand got in my hair, kind of itchy.
Ethan giggled, eyes sparkling. "Catch me, Avery!"
I took a deep breath, scooping up a handful of sand.
"Oh, you're done for, little man," I said, lips curling into a wicked smile, "nobody beats Avery Morris at sand wars!"
He screamed with laughter and ran. I lifted my dress and chased after him, image be damned. We threw sand at each other on the beach, laughing until we couldn't breathe.
"Alright, enough," Patrick tried to stop us, but his lips smiled too, "you're both turning into sand people."
"Daddy has to play too!" Ethan shouted, grabbing a handful of sand and throwing it at Patrick.
The sand hit Patrick's neck, then rolled down inside his collar.
My movements froze instantly. I even held my breath.
Would Patrick get mad? Would he yell at Ethan?
Even the gentlest men turned into fire-breathing tyrants with difficult kids. I'd seen too many cases.
And this man was far from gentle.
I watched Patrick intensely, tracking every shift in his expression. His mouth twitched twice, then lifted—Jesus, he actually smiled.
And not like he'd lost it.
Because the next second, he pretended to roll up his sleeves, fake-charging at Ethan.
"Little troublemaker!"
Ethan screamed and ran. I instinctively ran too.
I could hear Patrick laughing behind us—that low, genuine laugh, completely different from his usual dangerous chuckle.
God, this man was maddeningly mysterious!
The three of us chased, laughed, and threw sand on the beach.
Like a real family.
I didn't know how long we ran, but Ethan and I collapsed on the sand, gasping for air.
He slowly crawled over, leaning against me.
"Avery," he said, voice full of contentment, "you're really fun. You're more fun than all the merry-go-rounds put together."
"You too, little man," I said, fingers running through his soft golden hair.
He looked up at me, those blue eyes full of trust. "Will you always stay with me?"
My heart clenched again.
"I..." I started, but didn't know what to say. Because the answer was no. I wouldn't. I'd be gone in a month.
I looked at Patrick for help.
He walked over, crouching beside us. "Avery will play with you for a while," he said, voice very gentle, "but now, little man, you need a bath. Look at you, covered in sand."
"No!" Ethan protested, "I wanna play!"
"Tomorrow," Patrick said, "now go shower, then dinner."
Ethan pouted but obediently stood up. He turned to me. "Avery, can you tell me a story tonight?"
"Of course," I said, "I'll tell you the best story in the world."
He smiled happily, then bounced back to the villa.
Patrick and I were left alone on the beach.
"You're good at this," he said, standing and extending his hand.
I took his hand, letting him pull me up. "At what?"
"Being with kids," he said, "making him relax. I... haven't seen him this happy in a long time."
"He just needs someone to play with him," I said, brushing sand off myself, "not treat him like a porcelain doll."
Patrick looked at me with something strangely soft in his eyes.
"What?" I asked, feeling my face heat up.
"Nothing," he said, "just... thank you."
"Don't thank me," I said, "this is my job."
"No," he said, "this isn't just a job."
We looked at each other in silence, ocean breeze messing up my hair.
Then I cleared my throat, breaking this weird atmosphere. "I should go prep dinner. Or... do you have a chef?"
"Yes," he said, lips quirking up, "you don't need to cook. Just need to... be yourself."
"Be myself," I repeated, "sounds way easier than pretending to love you."
He laughed. "We'll take it slow."
At nine PM, I sat on Ethan's bed with a children's book in hand.
"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess trapped in a tower by an evil wizard..." I read in an exaggerated voice, making various faces.
Ethan lay under his blanket, eyes wide, completely absorbed.
"Then what?" he asked, "what did the princess do?"
"The princess was smart," I said, lowering my voice mysteriously, "she braided her long hair into a rope—"
"Hair can be rope?" Ethan interrupted, little face full of confusion.
"In fairy tales, yes," I said, tapping his nose with my finger, "in real life, no. In real life, you'd just rip your hair out and go to the hospital for stitches. So never try it."
Ethan giggled.
"Thank you, Avery," I said, continuing the story. I mimicked the wizard's voice—low and evil with exaggerated gestures; the princess's voice—high and brave; and the prince's voice—I deliberately made him sound dumb as a rock, the kind who tripped just walking.
Ethan laughed so hard he rolled on the bed.
When the story ended, the princess used her own wits to escape the tower, and the prince just happened to pass by and got saved by the princess.
"The princess saved herself?" Ethan asked, sounding surprised. "The prince didn't save her?"
"Right," I said, "because girls don't need to wait to be rescued. They can save themselves. Remember that, Ethan. When you grow up, respect brave girls, okay?"
He nodded seriously, looking like he tried hard to remember my words.
Then he suddenly leaned forward, little arms hugging my neck.
"Thank you, Avery," he whispered in my ear, warm breath on my neck, "I like your stories. Will you tell more tomorrow?"
My heart melted. This little guy was too cute, so cute I wanted to cry.
"Of course," I said, gently patting his back, "as long as you want to hear them, I'll keep telling."
"Can you tell a thousand stories?"
"A thousand?" I pretended to seriously consider, "I think I can tell ten thousand."
His eyes lit up like stars. "Really?"
"Really. I never lie to kids."
"Yay!" He happily lay back on his pillow, hugging his dinosaur toy. "Goodnight, Avery. You're the best person in the world."
My throat suddenly tightened.
"Goodnight, little warrior," I said, voice slightly trembling, "sweet dreams."
I tucked him in, kissed his forehead lightly—the gesture was instinctive, I didn't even realize I did it—then turned off the light and quietly left the room.
Then I saw Patrick.
He leaned against the hallway doorframe, arms crossed, just watching me. Those blue eyes were deep as the ocean in the dim light, holding something I couldn't name.
My heartbeat skipped.
"How long were you standing there?" I asked, voice softer than expected.
"Long enough," he said, lips curving in a soft smile, "heard the part about the princess saving herself. Very progressive storytelling."
"Kids should learn the right values," I shrugged, trying to seem casual, but I felt my face heating up, "not that tired prince-saves-princess trope."
"I agree," he said, straightening and walking toward me. The hallway was narrow, and when he got close, the space became cramped. "You really are good at this."
"I already said, I'm good at performing—"
"Not performing," he cut me off, now just inches between us, "I can tell. When you're with Ethan... that's not acting."
My breathing got messy. Damn lighting. Damn hallway. Damn this man standing too close, close enough I could smell his faint woody cologne.
"I-I like him," I admitted, "he's a good kid."
"He likes you too," Patrick said, eyes scanning my face, "never accepted anyone this fast."
"What about his mom?" I blurted out, then immediately regretted it. Damn it, Avery, why are you always so nosy?
Patrick's expression shifted, some emotion I couldn't catch flickering in his eyes.
"That doesn't matter," he finally said, voice going a bit cold, "she left us. That's enough."
"Sorry, I wasn't trying to pry—"
"I know," he said, but his tone made clear the topic was closed, "but that's the past. What matters now is that Ethan's happy. And you, you make him happy."
I bit my lip, not knowing what to say. The atmosphere suddenly got awkward.
"Look," I finally said, trying to sound casual and professional, "you don't need to worry. I'll play my part. I'm a natural performer, remember? When the film crew gets here, I promise I won't screw up."
"I'm not worried you'll screw up," he said, eyes softening, "what I'm worried about is..."
"What?"
He was silent for a moment, like weighing whether to speak. Then he lifted his hand, gently brushed a strand of hair from my face, fingertips lingering on my cheek for a second.
That touch ran through my skin like electricity.
"Nothing," he finally said, but his hand stayed by my face. "Just... thank you. For everything you did for Ethan today."
My face burned. Damn.
"I—this is my job," my voice sounded nowhere near steady.
"Is it?" he asked, voice low as a whisper, "just a job?"
Our faces were too close. Close enough I could count his eyelashes, see the deep blue flecks in his eyes. Close enough I could feel his breath on my lips.
"I should go to bed," I said, but my feet refused to move.
"Yeah," he said, but he didn't step back either, "you should."
The air filled with some kind of current, some tension making my heart race like it would explode.
"Then... goodnight," I said, forcing myself to step back.
"Goodnight, Avery," he said, eyes still locked on me, "see you tomorrow."
I turned and walked toward my room as fast as I could, feeling his gaze burn into my back like fire.
Inside the room, I leaned against the door, eyes closed, one hand pressed to my racing heart.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
I shouldn't have feelings for him. I shouldn't have feelings for Ethan. This was just a job. I'd be gone in a month.
But when I thought of Ethan's trusting blue eyes, of Patrick's gentleness just now, of that electric shock when his fingers touched my cheek...
I knew I was already in too deep.
And I'd only been here one day.
Just one day.