Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Casey
Hawaii mornings always carried that thick sweetness—ripe mangoes mixed with salt air. I sat with Tommy under the palms at Waikiki Beach, watching him work on his "sand castle" with that little orange shovel.
"Mommy, look! This is my moat." Sweat beaded on Tommy's forehead, his golden hair catching the light.
I brushed sand off his cheek, that soft ache blooming in my chest. He looked so much like him. Those blue eyes especially. When he focused on something, the expression was pure Paul.
I looked out toward the water. Surfers dotted the waves, their boards like bright notes dancing on blue silk. My gaze drifted across them and stopped.
Someone had just wiped out. He was standing up in the water. His instructor yelled something. He climbed back on his board and paddled out. The wave came. He pushed up, stood for maybe two seconds, then fell again. The water swallowed him whole. He tumbled before surfacing.
Paul.
He wore only black board shorts. Bare-chested in the bright sun, every muscle carved from years at the gym stood out sharp and wild. Water slid down his broad shoulders and solid chest, disappearing into the trail of golden hair above his waistband.
He tried again. And again. Sometimes he'd stay up a second or two.
Sometimes he'd barely stand before dropping.
Once the wave flipped him completely and sent his board flying.
He swam after it, climbed back on, and kept going.
His instructor clapped and shouted something.
Paul looked back, grinned, and kept at it.
That smile pulled up old memories. In Boston, everything came easy to him.
He learned fast, never looked this messy.
Tennis—two weeks and he could rally with his instructor.
Skiing—first day on the greens. He was always smooth, polished, and never made a fool of himself.
But here he was, getting rolled by waves, thrown around like driftwood. And he wouldn't quit.
"It's Paul!" Tommy shouted before I could say anything. He dropped his shovel and grabbed my hand. "Mommy, can I go see him?"
Before I could answer, Paul was already walking out of the water. He set his board in the rack, turned, and saw us. His whole face lit up.
He headed our way, board under his arm. Each step flexed the muscles in his legs. Water dripped off his knees onto the sand. He radiated this raw, animal energy under that tropical sun. I couldn't look straight at him.
I swallowed hard, forced my eyes down to the sand. My heart skipped, then kicked into overdrive.
"Hey, little man. We meet again." Paul's voice came out rough from the workout. He crouched down to Tommy's level.
Tommy threw himself at Paul's neck. "You're learning to surf! That's so cool!"
Paul rocked back, caught himself with one hand in the sand. He laughed. "Still got a long way to go. I ate it pretty bad out there."
"I saw!" Tommy let go, stepped back, hands waving. "You fell from way up here, and splash! Huge splash!"
"You saw that?" Paul rubbed his nose, looking embarrassed. "Think I'm an idiot?"
"No way." Tommy's voice went serious. "You got back up."
Paul stared at him. Blinked. Then smiled and ruffled Tommy's hair. "Yeah. Got back up."
"Tommy, want to learn to surf?" Paul looked down at him. "I'll teach you."
"Yes!" Tommy jumped, turned to me. "Mommy, can I?"
Paul looked up too. His eyes held hope and caution. "Casey, I won't let anything happen to him. Promise. Just the shallows. Water's not deep. I'll hold him the whole time."
I looked back at him. Sunburn still marked his face. His nose and cheekbones were peeling, new skin underneath. His expression was serious. None of that "my way or the highway" attitude from before. Just waiting quietly for my answer.
"Don't let him choke on water."
"I won't." His smile broke through, eyes brightening. He bent down and scooped Tommy up. "Come on, let's go play."
Tommy wrapped his arms around Paul's neck, giggling.
Paul carried him to the water and set him down in the shallows.
The water just covered Tommy's calves. He brought the board over, laid it on the surface, and helped Tommy climb on.
Once Tommy was settled, Paul held the nose with one hand, Tommy's back with the other, and pushed slowly into the water.
Tommy wobbled. Paul's hands steadied him immediately.
"Don't be scared. I got you." His voice was calm. "Lay flat. Hands on the sides of the board. Yeah, like that. When the wave comes, hold on tight. I'll push you."
Tommy nodded, his little face scrunched with concentration. Paul pushed the board deeper. Water reached his knees, then his thighs. He stopped, waited for a small wave, and gave a gentle push. Tommy slid across the surface, shrieking with joy. "Mommy, did you see!"
I stood on the beach, watching them. Paul glanced back at me, smiled, and turned back to Tommy.
He held the board, showed Tommy how to balance, how to lean forward when the wave came.
Every time Tommy did something right, Paul praised him.
Every time Tommy fell, Paul caught him and lifted him back onto the board.
Tommy wasn't scared at all. He knew Paul would catch him.
I watched them, that ache building in my chest. If six years ago hadn't happened, this could've been us.
Weekends at the beach. Paul teaching Tommy to surf.
Me sitting in the sand watching them. Then home together.
Dinner. Cartoons. Tucking Tommy in. All those ordinary things. That should've been our life.
"What are you spacing out about over here?"
Lina appeared out of nowhere, plopped down beside me with two iced coffees. She handed me one. She wore a bikini under a sheer cover-up, sunglasses pushed up on her head.
"When did you get here?"
"It's the weekend. Where else would I be?" She sipped her coffee, followed my gaze. "Oh look, isn't that your man?"
"He's not my man."
"Please." Lina rolled her eyes. "You're looking at him like you want to eat him alive."
"I am not."
"You're not? You haven't taken your eyes off him since I got here." Lina leaned in, grinning. "Ella, how long are you going to keep this up? I can see it. You still love him."
I said nothing for a long time. The waves rolled in, one after another.
"Lina, it doesn't matter if I still love him." My voice came out flat. "What matters is I can't fully trust him again. I still remember what he said six years ago."
Lina set her coffee in the sand, turned to face me.
"Ella, look at him now. He's trying to fit into your life.
Surfing lessons. Hawaiian language. Volunteering at the community center.
A Boston blue blood doing all that—if it's not real, what is?
You've seen how he was. You're seeing how he is now. Tell me they're the same."
"I know he's changing. But Lina, how do I know he won't do it again? The Vincent Family comes knocking, and he picks their side again—what then? What happens to Tommy?"
Lina squeezed my shoulder. "Then make him prove it. Ella, don't let old hurt block what's right in front of you. If you don't give him a chance, how will you know if he can come through?"
I looked at her. Said nothing. She smiled, stood up, and brushed sand off her skirt. "Okay, think about it. I'm going over there to tan. Won't interrupt your man-watching anymore."
"He's not—"
"I know, I know. Not your man." She walked off laughing.
I sat on my towel, watching the two figures in the water. Tommy still lay on the board, Paul guiding him in circles. Tommy's laughter rang across the whole beach. Paul lifted him off the board, hoisted him overhead. Tommy kicked his legs, yelling higher, higher.
After a while, Paul carried Tommy back to shore. Tommy clung to his neck, cheek pressed against his shoulder. Paul set him on the towel and dried him off.
Paul walked over and sat down about two feet from me. He still smelled like cold seawater. We sat side by side on the sand, neither speaking. Just the sound of waves hitting the shore.
A strong wind blew through, whipping my curls around. I reached up to fix them. His fingers got there first, so gentle as he tucked the strands behind my ear. His fingertips burned hot against my cool cheek. The touch shot through me like current.
He pulled his hand back quickly, like he was afraid of startling something. His voice dropped low. "Casey, your hair's longer."
I froze.
"You used to say you wanted to see what it looked like down to your waist. But you were always too busy, kept it short for convenience." He turned toward the glittering ocean, voice barely above a whisper. "Now you finally grew it out. It's beautiful."
Something slammed into my chest. The ache came flooding in.
I looked at Paul's profile. Sunlight carved out his features. His eyes held none of that old arrogance. What I saw now was something deeper. Restrained. Earned.
Maybe Lina was right. I didn't know what the future held. Didn't know if this late-blooming devotion could stand up to reality's cruelty.
But in that moment, under the Waikiki sunset, I heard it. The sound of my heart beating again.