CHAPTER 23
Valentina
L ong Island in April holds a beauty that, while different from the white sand and turquoise waters of Venezuela, feels like a slice of paradise for New Yorkers. The air is crisp, and the breeze, steady and cool in the mid-fifties, carries the briny scent of the sea while rhythmic waves lap the shore.
One of my first jobs after college was as a reporter covering local events and stories, which brought me to Long Island a few times, though never for leisure.
Despite the chill, Jason and his friends are shirtless, their skin glistening as they play beach volleyball a safe distance from where I’m hanging out with the kids. The thumps of the volleyball and the rumble of their laughter mix with the ocean’s whisper, creating a lively yet soothing background.
Nearby, Liam, who joined us when his son summoned him to fix a lopsided sandcastle, meticulously reshapes the sand with a trowel. Meanwhile, the rest of the kids build sandcastles while Eden chatters beside me. She scoops more sand with her plastic shovel and stacks it onto her creation. Her running words depict the castle she built here last fall, not missing a single detail of the actual construction. “Daddy had to take another trip into town to get us new shovels.”
I nod along, my gaze on her to show I’m listening, though I check to ensure no one ventures too close to the water. Eden’s potential as a future journalist shines through as her account paints a vivid picture. Or maybe she’ll be an architect like Liam. The sandcastle takes shape under her skilled hands, each mound a testament to her abilities—a story told not just through words, but through the artful sand construction at her feet.
“Happy with that, mate?” Liam stands when his son nods. Then he lingers, slapping the sand off the seat of his shorts.
Since I try to instill manners in Jason’s kids and they spend a lot of time with these guys, I’d better chime in. “What do you say to your dad?”
At my prompt, Liam’s six-year-old dutifully thanks his dad.
Liam winks at me. “Appreciate you being here and instilling some values into our littles.”
“You guys have done a good job of that already.” I stand and brush sand from my leggings. The breeze seeps through my light sweater, and I relax, grateful we’re not close enough to the expanse of the ocean to warrant any immediate worry. My gaze drifts to the volleyball game, and I catch Jason’s gaze across the distance. “You’re all great dads.”
“It’s Jason’s turn to cook tonight.” Liam lowers his voice, leaning closer, perhaps not wanting the kids to overhear. His green eyes glint, his charm evident in his demeanor. He’s tall, lean, and handsome like all his buddies. But his nearness doesn’t affect me the way Jason does. “I was wondering if you could help me prank him.”
“I don’t know about pranking my boss. I’m just getting on his good side.”
“He might be a big ol’ oaf.” His Aussie accent flows as he glances back at the men.
I follow his glance. Jason is staring at me, his focus intense and heated. My mind feels like mush as his gaze holds mine, laden with promises I’m ready to let him make. How is it he can make my skin heat and my heart race from so far away with nothing more than a look?
He flicks his gaze to Liam, then frowns.
Liam tsks. “If anything, it’ll be me he wants to harm, not you.”
“Liam, get back already,” Jason calls. “We need a full team!”
Liam winks, then slaps my shoulder. “We’ll talk more about this prank later.”
I shake my head, amused yet anxious over what kind of pranks these men might play against each other. But now the kids are arguing, frustrated by their failed attempts to build or whatnot. I’d better dig in to help those who need it.
“What do you think of this, Val?”
At Eden’s query, I lower myself. My tights sink into the sand as I inspect her castle. “It’s beautiful!”
Atticus shows me his progress on a sand airplane, and Felix showcases his. Liam’s, Ethan’s, and Russ’s kids eagerly display their creations. I smile, encouraging each of them as I ask about their favorite food, colors, and other simple questions. But like most kids, they give lengthy answers, even diverting off topic to what they do on their birthdays. Through the birthday chatter, I sense Eden’s silence. Undoubtedly, she still harbors hurtful memories from her seventh birthday.
The sandcastle enthusiasm winds down. Now, two siblings start kicking each other’s creations. I summon the kids to join me at the beanbag toss station where we will throw beanbags into buckets instead of the usual targets.
As all the young ones dash ahead, Eden walks by my side, and I take her hand to continue the birthday conversation. My feet sink into the cool sand. “Remember when we talked about starting new memories?”
“I like journals.” She swings our hands. “Will you still teach me how to edit videos?”
“I’m looking forward to it.” Her newfound passion is for photography this week. She’s been snapping pictures on my phone as we stroll to Central Park in the evenings. “What if we celebrate your birthday this year?”
“I don’t...” Her steps slow, and her grip tightens. “Dad is... What if—”
“Your dad is not going to leave you on your birthday.” That must be what she fears.
“He’s busy, and I don’t want him stressed.”
“Any time your dad gets to celebrate another year of you growing, it’s a gift to him, not a burden.”
She nods, swallowing. “But my birthday is in June.”
“June will be here before we know it.”
She smiles. “I guess.”
I’ve decided to extend my stay beyond July. Despite occasional ups and downs, I feel at peace, like I’m where I’m meant to be. I’ve been praying for guidance and have found my calm.
When we toss beanbags, I glance at the volleyball area where my gaze finds Jason’s. Sure, all the guys look handsome under the sun, but Jason... he affects me. Maybe because a heated energy simmers between us.
A tiny hand tugs at me. Ethan’s little girl asks for my help to show her how to throw. I lower myself to her level, take her little hand with the soft beanbag, and walk closer to the bucket. Then I aid her to throw the bag in. “Great job!”
She beams. “Did it.”
“Do you guys always do this when your dads play volleyball at the beach?” I gesture to the men’s elaborate setup with chairs.
“Sometimes Mimi comes with us.” Eden brushes a wisp of blonde back from her tanning cheeks. “If she doesn’t come, we play whatever they play.”
Jason had invited me to play volleyball, but I’d offered to stay with the kids so the guys could enjoy their time. The house is close enough for me to walk the kids back if they get tired.
We continue the beanbag toss and alternate with building more sandcastles when a growl rumbles through the air. I spin around. Jason’s limping, his friends scrambling around him.
“Get some water from the ocean!” someone shouts.
“What do we do?” shouts another.
I suck in a sharp breath. “Looks like your daddy’s hurt.” I touch Eden’s arm. “Can you keep the kids calm here while I go help?”
Her blue eyes big and tanned skin blanched, she nods.
So I grab the basket I brought with a first aid kit
Jason is propped up in a lounge chair, his foot elevated and bleeding. As I approach, he turns toward me, while his three frazzled friends hover anxiously around him.
Atticus’s voice hollers our way. “If you’re upset, Dad, scream.”
“Scream, right?” Jason looks at me. “Do you have your phone, by chance?”
“I do.” I pat the side pockets of my leggings for it. Whenever I babysit anyone’s kids, I always keep my phone handy for emergencies. I get closer to Jason. “I hope we don’t need to call 9-1-1.”
“I think a piece of glass got jammed in there,” Liam says.
Ethan suggests a Band-Aid. Russ suggests Jason soak his bloody wound in the ocean.
“We should first get him back to the house,” Ethan adds.
Jason fixes his gaze on me. “Could you call my mom, instead?”
Hadn’t he said Judy couldn’t be reached unless she called?
“I’ll check this out first.” I need to be fast to clean his wound. I put the basket down and retrieve the first aid kit. I urge him to tip the back of the lounger down flat. Then, to avoid distractions, I request the dads to help Eden keep the kids away in case some panic at the sight of blood.
With his feet dangling off the beach lounger, I kneel and assess the injury before grabbing a water bottle from the ones Jason and his buddies abandoned on the sand. When I pour it over his wound, he screams—a sharp, piercing sound. As I clean the affected area, he groans rather loudly for such a strong man.
Ugh. “There it is. A shard of glass sticking out a tad from your arch.”
“What happens now?” He runs a hand over his face.
“I’m going to take it out like I would a splinter.” I focus on his face and avoiding his shirtless chest. “If I can’t manage, we’ll figure something out.”
I pull another chair close and lift his leg onto my lap, keeping the first aid kit on his lounger.
“Is this the time for you to seek revenge?”
“It’s a possibility.” I rub disinfectant around the wound and toss the soiled cloths underneath his chair. A distraction seems necessary. “Why did you want us to call your mom? Does she still make your doctor’s appointments?”
“She’s a nurse.” He grimaces. “Always there for me.”
“I can tell you two are close.”
“She’s my hero,” he admits. “Probably the only one who will never leave me.”
I sanitize the tweezers from the kit. “God will never leave you. I hope you know that.”
“Sometimes I think He’s with me, but I don’t know, since I can’t see Him.”
“God’s everywhere around us.” I peer at the ocean, then back to his injury. “How your kids make you feel is a good example of how you and I make God feel. We’re His children. You also experience God’s presence through friends. You have good friends who will stick with you, I’m sure.”
I position the tweezers over the piece of glass, being careful. “You have me too. At least, I consider myself your friend.”
“But you’re going to leave when you find a big-shot job.” He sounds genuine, sad even. “You’ll forget I ever existed.”
As the old rejections linger, my chest tightens. My fingers pinch the metal tweezers on the shard. But the glass slips from their grip, and blood seeps around the wound. “You’re not easy to forget. If you want, I can stay in touch. Plus, you have friends to count on.”
“I don’t like you being too nice to my friends.”
“But they’re your friends. Why wouldn’t I be nice?”
His gaze tingles over me. “They’re single and not bad looking.”
I stay focused, probing the shard for a good grip again. “I’m single too. Not prone to a good-looking man.”
“They will steal you away. They’re nicer than I am.”
Not sure exactly what he means, I still shiver as butterflies swoop through my stomach. My hand shakes, and the tweezers twang against the glass. That better not have shoved it in deeper. Focus, girl!
He grunts. “They don’t usually have a beautiful woman in their midst.”
Is he jealous? I’m now eager to probe further, flirt with him again. Doing so with Jason is playing with fire. Still, a bubbling excitement takes over any sense of reason.
“You think I’m beautiful?”
“And nice. Kind.”
I’m flattered, but he might be delirious if he’s telling me this to my face. “How are you feeling?”
“Good. Why?”
“Hmm. Interesting.” I smirk, then yank the glass out.
“Ouch!” He groans, blood spurts free, and one of his friends’ voice floats from a distance telling him to quit scaring the seagulls.
“It’s out.” What a relief! “Okay, take a deep breath.” I sanitize the area, then wrap a compression bandage around his foot to stabilize it. Moving to his head, I hold out my fingers for him to count. “How many fingers do you see?”
“Three.”
I put another finger down. “How about now?”
He captures my hand, his fingers encircling my wrist, his blue eyes tender yet intense. Gone is the breeze, replaced by heat that stirs the butterflies in my stomach. “Are you testing to see if I have a concussion?”
I swallow to mask my affection. “It’s not every day you go complimenting me, Grumps.”
He tugs me down at the same time as he pulls up to sit, and our faces are inches apart.
“Get used to it.” His voice dips. Our lips hover closer, and my heart thuds as our gazes linger on each other. “New memories and starting over, remember?” He then lets my hand go.
I’m lightheaded with desire when I stand. I gotta say I like this new Jason Sterling.