Chapter 28
SOLEI
I pulled on my robe and stepped onto the balcony, the view stopping me in my tracks. Unreal turquoise water, endless white sand, and, in the middle, my family.
Money and Junior were locked in a fierce game of chicken. Solina was perched on Money’s shoulders, gripping his head, shouting ignored instructions.
“Go this way! No, no! The other way! Daddy, you’re doing it wrong!”
“Baby girl, I’m doin’ exactly what you told me!" Money called back, laughing from deep in his chest. Junior dove under, trying to dislodge Money’s feet, but Money held firm, one hand steadying Solina on his shoulders. “You’re gonna have to do better than that, son! Your old man still got it!”
“You’re not that old!” Junior yelled, coming up for air. “You’re just cheatin’!”
“That’s not cheatin’! That’s strategy!” He laughed back and I watched them with my chest tight. This was the Money I’d loved–present, playful, engaged. The version I’d convinced myself was gone, consumed by the game. But he was here.
“Mommy! Mommy, come in the water!” Solina spotted me and started waving frantically. “Come play with us!”
“I’m going to get breakfast started,” I called back, already moving toward the balcony door.
The villa’s kitchen gleamed with stainless steel appliances, white marble counters, and open shelves lined with elegant dishes and glassware. Of course, Money had stocked the fridge and pantry before we arrived, and I found everything I needed instantly.
I connected my phone to the Bluetooth speaker and let Jhené Aiko's voice fill the space, low and soulful. Sativa played softly as I moved through the kitchen, pulling out ingredients, setting up my workspace.
I started with the pancakes. I whisked flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt in a large bowl.
In a smaller bowl, I cracked eggs and added milk and melted butter.
Cooking always calmed me–the measuring, mixing, and careful attention to detail.
It was one of the few things that quieted my mind.
Lately, I hadn’t cared to cook, but today felt different.
Folding wet into dry, I remembered the last time I’d made breakfast for us all.
It had been so long–before the separation, before thinking I could build a life without Money.
The batter turned smooth and thick. I heated a griddle, watched the butter sizzle and melt, and ladled the first pancake onto it to brown.
One pancake became two, then twelve. I stacked them on a tray to keep warm while I started the bacon. The kitchen filled with a savory, rich smell. I flipped the bacon, grabbed a carton of eggs, cracked them into a bowl, and whisked them with milk, salt, and pepper.
Next, I diced potatoes for home fries, heated oil in a cast-iron skillet, and let them sizzle and brown. I stirred in onions, bell peppers, smoky paprika, Adobo, and garlic powder. The kitchen smelled divine, and for a moment, I lowered my guard.
I scrambled the eggs, folding them gently until they were soft and fluffy. I plated everything–pancakes stacked high, bacon crispy and perfect, eggs golden, and home fries seasoned just right. Then I pulled the fruit bowl out of the fridge and set it on the island with everything else.
Then I pulled out champagne, sangria and orange juice, mixing them in a pitcher with sliced oranges and strawberries. Next, I added a splash of Brandy. Sangria mimosas used to be me and Money’s thing.
I heard laughter and thunderous footsteps before Money appeared in the kitchen with the kids. Junior’s eyes went wide. “Whoa, Ma. You made all this?”
“I did.”
“It smells so good, Mommy!” Solina jumped up and down, water dripping from her curls. On her tiptoes, she dragged Junior. “Come onnn! Let’s dry off so we can go eat!”
They disappeared up the stairs, and Money leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed. He smirked. “Sangria mimosas, huh?”
I gave a light smile and nodded. “Go dry off so we can eat. I’m sure the kids have a whole day planned.”
“They do.” Money winked at me, jogged up the stairs, and I watched him go.
Ten minutes later, we sat down at the table on the patio with the ocean stretching out before us and the sun warm on our skin.
I poured sangria mimosas for Money and me and orange juice for the kids.
Junior loaded his plate while Solina took two pancakes and drowned them in syrup.
Money filled his plate, but he kept his eyes on me.
“This is perfect, baby,” he said quietly.
“It’s just breakfast.”
“Nah.” He reached across the table, his hand covering mine. “It’s more than that.” I looked down at our hands–his large and scarred, mine smaller, softer. The contrast had always fascinated me.
“Mommy,” Solina said, syrup on her chin. “These are the best pancakes ever.”
“Thank you, baby.”
Junior was already on his second helping. “Can we do this every mornin’ back home?”
I laughed. “So we can blow up to the size of this island? I think not. But… every once in a while is cool.”
Even as I joked, the question’s weight lingered. Could I do this every morning–wake up beside Money and make Saturday breakfast, as if the last eighteen months hadn’t happened? As if I hadn’t tried life without him or he hadn’t planned this trip to force my hand?
I sipped my mimosa, feeling champagne bubbles fizz on my tongue, and watched my family eat.
When Money, the man I’d fallen for fifteen years ago in a county jail, caught my eye, I smiled.
A wave of old affection mixed with caution washed over me.
God help me, I smiled back. Despite everything, I loved him.
Pouring another sangria mimosa, I let myself savor this fragile happiness, just for a moment.
“Can we go snorkelin’ today?” Junior asked, his mouth full of bacon.
“Chew first, talk second,” I said automatically.
“Can we?” he repeated, after swallowing.
Money looked at me, a question in his eyes, and I reluctantly nodded. “Yeah, we can do that,” Money agreed. “But everybody’s wearing life jackets. No arguments.”
“I’m thirteen, Pop. I don’t need a life jacket. I’m a beast at swimmin’.”
“What did your father say, Junior?” I raised an eyebrow, and he huffed but didn’t argue.
__
Snorkeling was magical. The water was so clear you could see straight to the bottom. We were surrounded by fish in colors I didn’t know existed. It felt like stepping into another world.
Junior did his own thing with the instructor. Money stayed close, one hand on my back, making sure I was good. Every time I looked at him through the mask, he watched me, checking in.
We surfaced near a coral formation, and Money pulled up his mask. “You good?” he asked.
“More than good,” I said, breathless. “This is incredible.”
“Yeah?” He was smiling, and there was something in his expression that made my chest ache. “Wait until you see the deeper shit.” He took my hand and guided me farther out, where the water grew darker, and the fish grew bigger. I should have been scared, but I wasn’t. Not with him there.
When we came back to shore, Solina was waiting with the resort staff member Money had hired to watch her, building a sandcastle with intense concentration. “Look what I made!” she called out, running toward us. “It’s a palace!”
Money scooped her up, spinning her around. “It’s beautiful, baby. That’s the most dopest palace I’ve ever seen.”
“Better than a real one?” she asked seriously.
“Hell yeah. Way better,” he said, and he meant it. I could see it in his face.
For lunch, we went to a beachside restaurant for jerk chicken, oxtails, rice, salad, veggies, drinks, and desserts. The sun was high and hot, and everything felt lazy and perfect.
The afternoon melted into evening. We played cards and games on the terrace.
Money let the kids win just enough to keep them interested, but not so much that it was obvious.
Later, we watched the sunset from the beach.
Solina sat on Money’s lap, Junior sat between us, and I rested my head on his shoulders.
The sky turned coral, gold, and deep purple, the water reflecting it all back, doubling the beauty.
“This is dope,” Junior said quietly.
“Facts,” Money agreed.
“Can we stay here forever, Daddy?” Solina asked.
“No, baby girl, but we can come back whenever you want.”
For the first time in eighteen months, I let myself believe that maybe this could work. That Money could really change. That we could really be a family again. That love, even messy, chaotic, complicated love, could be repaired.
???
By nine-thirty that night, Junior was in the game room on the PlayStation while Money read with Solina in her room.
In a bright yellow bikini, I slipped out to the pool alone.
I needed space to think, breathe, and process everything that was happening.
The water was warm and clear, the kind of perfect that felt almost unreal.
I floated on my back, staring up at the cloudless sky, trying to quiet the noise in my head.
“Knew you’d be out here.”
I flipped upright, water cascading down my face. Money stood at the edge of the pool in swim shorts, his chest bare, and chains around his neck. “Soso’s asleep?” I asked.
“Out cold.” He dove into the water, surfacing a few feet away from me. “You hidin’ from me, Soul?”
“No. Thinking.”
“About?”
“About… whether I’m making a huge mistake.”
He moved closer, water dripping from his shoulders. “Are you?”
“Only time will tell.”
Money was right in front of me now, close enough that I could see the water beading on his skin. “I know sex won’t fix everything, but…” His hand found my waist underwater, pulling me toward him.
“Money…”
“What?” His voice was low, intimate. “You don’t want this dick?"
I did. God, I did. “The kids…”
His other hand came up, cupping my face. “We have time.” I let him kiss me, slow and deep. When he pulled back, I was breathing hard.
“Today was perfect, but we still have major problems.”