The next morning came with golden light spilling through gauzy curtains and the rhythmic call of waves just beyond the terrace. Amelia stirred before Oliver, her body still, but her mind already spinning. She could hear soft movement from the adjoining room—the low hum of voices and the distant sound of laughter.
She slipped on a robe and padded barefoot toward the sliding door that led to the beach.
What she saw froze her in place.
Andrew was down in the sand, barefoot and shirtless in loose gray joggers, his hair tousled by the sea breeze. He held a kite in one hand while Oliver jumped excitedly around him, pointing and squealing with glee.
“No, Daddy—higher! Let it go higher!” Oliver yelled.
Andrew laughed, genuinely, deeply. “I’m trying, buddy. The wind’s got to help us a bit!”
T
