11. Diana
After Danielle’s revelation, part of me wants to beg them to stay, while the other is ecstatic to have them gone, to give me the opportunity to figure out what it is I’m feeling now that this idea of a romantic something has been planted in my head.
“Did you have fun today?” Michael asks with genuine interest.
I swallow once and consider what Danielle said, about how he organized this afternoon for me. Even though I’m not sure I believe her, I want to make sure he knows I appreciate everything he did. Because regardless of why he did it, it was great, I felt welcome, and so did my kids.
“I had an amazing time, Michael. Really. I… I honestly can’t believe you pulled off such a barbecue. I mean,” I look meaningfully at the groups of people around us. “I feel like we’re the envy of everyone at the beach. This looks like a professionally catered event.”
“Well… It’s been kinda my job lately.” He chuckles and runs his fingers through his hair, hat discarded now that the sun has almost gone down completely.
It’s almost dark now, but in the light of the bonfire, I catch the way his eyes light up, the way the green hue has changed once again to a lighter one—the same green they were earlier today when we talked about the wildly different experiences we had in our twenties as we walked along the shore.
The need to figure him out, to match a hue to every mood is almost visceral.
I get lost in his eyes, pulled in by the dancing colors reflecting the fire beside us, keeping us warm.
Before I can stop myself, I say “Your eyes are like some sort of mood ring.”
A single laugh bursts out from him. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, god.” I laugh, facepalming. “I just mean… I’ve noticed that your eyes—they’re more green than hazel—”
“Yes, I know that.” He grins, thoroughly entertained.
“—and they change hues, and sometimes I swear it’s related to your mood.”
“To my mood?” Michael seems thrilled to hear this theory, but I personally want to die. Did I seriously just say that? Did I really word vomit to this guy what I think about his eyes?
God, maybe Danielle and Liza are right. Maybe this physical attraction is evolving into something else. It needs to end.
“Yeah. Like, when you’re excited about something they look really bright, the flecks of gold standing out. And when you’re frustrated with me—” I say with a chuckle—“they turn a kind of mossy green.”
He grins. “That’s it? I only have two moods, then? Excitement and frustration?”
“Well, no. Your eyes also look a deep emerald normally, which is kind of… beautiful. But then, today, it was the first time I saw them turn a deep color—almost forest green. Right before we went in the water.” When your eyes roamed over my body, when you smirked at me in that way I felt down to my toes.
“Oh, yeah? What do you think that one meant?” His voice drops a few octaves, some kind of mischief building in his expression while still darkening at the same time. His gaze drops to my lips as he moves closer to me.
Suddenly, our breathing speeds, and my heart races as something warm and delicious spreads through my body. Without meaning to, I lean in closer, the combined scent of citrus and sea salt falling over me, intoxicating. He’s so handsome. And he smells so good.
“Diana,” he murmurs, scooting closer to me on the log.
“Yeah?” I breathe, eyes on his mouth, daydreaming about what it would feel like to have it on mine or grazing my skin.
“I—”
An explosion of colorful lights flood the night sky above us, the loud sound causing us to jump apart as the Fourth of July fireworks go off.
My cheeks blush as I look away, but I still feel his gaze on my face, my body as tense as a bow string.
Slowly, I turn to face him, unsure of what I might find.
But all I see is a man with a furrowed brow, confusion etched into his expression, as his face dances in red, blues, and golds from the lights above us.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his eyes never leaving mine. There’s an ache in his voice, and I think it matches the one building inside me.
I inhale sharply, speechless.
What is happening?
My gaze roams over his face, looking for any hint that he’s playing me, making fun of me for this buzzing feeling that’s spreading all over my body.
But there’s no trace of humor—no signature smirk, no teasing smile.
It’s him. It’s Michael, raw and vulnerable, and in that second, it officially becomes my favorite version of him.
“Michael,” I say, not really knowing how to keep going. I rack my brain for how to follow it up, because it feels like we’re having a moment. But I’ve been out of the game so long that I have no idea how to respond.
Luckily, the vision of Camila running toward me in my periphery brings my parental instincts to the forefront, distracting me from whatever the hell just happened. Or didn’t.
When an out of breath Cami reaches me and looks nervously at Michael, I wonder briefly whether she saw our interaction, whether a part of her knows that something was going down between her friend’s dad and her mom—whatever it was. Thankfully, though, I shouldn’t have worried.
“Mami, can I talk to you super quick?” she asks, biting her lip. “Over there.” She throws a thumb over her shoulder, where I see Emi and Rachel huddled by the dunes.
“Uh. Sure.” I get to my feet and throw Michael an apologetic look before walking away, only looking back once as I feel the cold sand beneath my feet to find him holding his head in his hands, looking glumly into the fire pit.
“So, please don’t tell Michael or anything,” my daughter says, pulling me by the hand, “but Rachel’s been really sad because Fourth of July was kinda her and her mom’s thing?
I don’t know. She was super cool all day, but then I guess the fireworks made her even sadder because she started crying out of nowhere and I wanted to call Michael but she said she didn’t want to and then I asked if I should call you and she said no, but I thought you’d know what to do because she won’t stop crying.
” Cami rushes through her words, looking up at me as she walks, brows pulled together.
I smile wildly because my daughter came to me when she needed my help, and that feels big. It means she trusts me. All happiness dissipates, however, when I see Emi holding Rachel in her arms while she sobs.
I drop Cami’s hand and jog over to the girls, who separate once they hear me ask what’s wrong. But Rachel can barely get words out, so Emi decides to speak for her.
“Rachel really misses her mom, and she’s sad she’s not here. It’s the first Fourth of July they aren’t together.”
My heart breaks for Rachel, not knowing quite what to say.
I take Rachel by the hands and have her face me. Using the sleeve of my sweatshirt, I wipe the tears off her face, only to have them quickly replaced by fresh ones. “Do you want me to call your dad? Ask him to come talk to you?” I try to sound as comforting as possible.
“No!” She sniffs. “No, it’s just gonna make him feel bad. He’s been so great, and he made sure everyone had fun today. But the fireworks were my mom and mine’s thing. And I’m just sad.” She shrugs once, trying to act strong. “I just—I just need to get over it.”
“Get over it?” I gasp. “Honey, you have every right to be sad today. And your dad is not going to think you’re being a burden or whatever crazy thing is running through your mind right now.
He loves you so much, and wants what’s best for you.
He would want to know if you’re sad—I know I would want to know if one of my girls were going through a rough time. ”
“I don’t know how to talk to him, though,” she cries.
My heart twists for them.
“Okay.” I nod. “I understand that. Talking about feelings isn’t always easy and sometimes we don’t even know how to start. So would it be helpful if I bring him over and guide you guys through it?” I ask.
Rachel hesitates a moment before nodding.
“Perfect.” I turn to Emi and ask her to go get Michael, making sure she lets him know it’s urgent, but doesn’t alert the other adults. He comes running in seconds, brows pulled together.
“Rach? What’s wrong?” He drops to his knees, kicking sand everywhere, and pulls her quickly into his arms. “What’s going on?”
She starts crying again, wrapping her little arms around his neck as she sobs into his chest. Michael looks helplessly at me. He pushes Rachel away just enough to meet her squarely in the eye. “Talk to me. Please.”
Rachel bites her lip and looks back at me.
“Um. She misses her mom,” I whisper. “Fourth of July fireworks were super special to them, apparently, and she got very sad.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks her. “I would’ve loved to have sat down and watched them together. You could’ve told me all about what you and your mom used to do. We might’ve been able to recreate some of it.”
Rachel sniffs again and runs the back of her hand over her nose. “You never asked.”
Michael looks away, ashamed. “Fuck,” he mutters.
“You’re right, Rach. I am so sorry. I should’ve known better.
I-I’m still trying to figure this parenting thing out, but I want you to know that I love you so much.
It seems impossible, but I love you more every day.
I know this whole thing is still new, but I can’t imagine a world without you now.
Please, please, please know that you can come to me no matter what.
Next year, I promise we can continue you and your mom’s tradition. Or start a new one.”
“I don’t want a new tradition. What if you leave? I’d have to start another one all over again with someone else.”
“Leave?” Michael looks horrified, his eyes glazing over with unshed tears. “Kid, I know we had a rough and confusing start, but I promise you there is no freaking way I am ever leaving you again. I am here to stay.”
Rachel starts crying again and throws herself at her father. “Do you promise?”
“I swear.” He squeezes her tightly. “Nothing in this world is ever going to keep me from you ever again.”
“Okay. I love you, Dad.”
I wipe a tear across my cheek before pulling my two girls into my sides, watching Michael and Rachel have this breakthrough moment. After a few seconds, he opens his eyes and looks at me, mouthing a Thank you.