“I thought we’d eat at the pool. Less sand,” she said.
Matt stood and flew Gracie down and onto her feet. “Well, that’s an invitation I can’t turn down.”
—
The faint sound of Jimmy Buffett drifted from the speakers around the bar and grew louder as they neared the pool area. A jumble of round iron tables and chairs covered the patio shaded by tall palms rustling in the breeze. The Seaside Grille sat nestled against the main building, serving guests on the patio or poolside if they preferred.
“Hey, princess, why don’t you pick out a table for us,” Matt said.
Abby melted a little more at the effort he made to include Annie. They found a table and she unloaded, relieved to sit after the trek up from the beach in the heat of the day.
“What does everyone want?” Matt asked. After the kids reeled off their orders, he looked to her. “What about you?”
“Why don’t you go ahead, then I’ll get mine and the kids.”
He ignored her and repeated what he had so far, not easy since they’d all changed their minds three times.
“What do you want?” he asked her again.
“You’re not buying our lunch.”
“I am.”
She reached into her bag for her wallet.
“Abby,” he said with an impatient sigh, then covered it with a smile. “I’m not taking your money. Now, tell me what you want or I’ll surprise you.” When she didn’t immediately answer, he turned to the kids.
“Who knows what Mommy wants for lunch?”
Gracie knelt in her chair, belly against the table, arms outstretched, trying to reach Charlie across from her. “Mommy wikes a chicken sandwich, fwies, and soda.”
Traitor.
“Thank you very much.” Matt smiled, looking pleased with himself. “Be right back.”
Mr. Take Charge returned with a tray full of food. The fries were salty and the Coke was that perfect fountain-machine soda with plenty of fizz. Twenty minutes later the frenzy slowed, the kids doing more playing than eating, but Abby was too tired to move. A beep sounded from Matt’s pocket. He pulled out his phone, checked the screen, and laughed.
“Purple People Eater,” he said, showing her a texted photo. “Best bike there ever was.”
A smiling boy about Jack’s age sat on a very old and very purple bicycle with wide handlebars and a banana seat patched with silver duct tape.
“That’s my nephew Alex.”
“I want to see.” Jack scooted closer to Matt as Gracie moved into Abby’s lap.
Matt handed the phone to Jack. “My brothers and I covered a lot of ground on that bike.”
Annie looked up from her napkin origami. “How many brothers do you have?”
“Five.”
“Do you have sisters?” she asked.
“One sister.”
Annie studied him, then after a moment reached for a new napkin, and went back to her folding.
Matt took the phone back from Jack. “We played cops and robbers with our cousins from morning ’til—”
“What’s a cousin?” Gracie asked, easing ever closer to Matt.
“Well, my mom and dad both have a lot of brothers and sisters, and—”
“How many?” Jack interrupted.
“My dad has seven and my mom has eight. All my parents’ brothers and sisters are my aunts and uncles, and their kids are my cousins.”
Jack looked at her. “Do we have cousins, Mom?”
“No.”
“We don’t have a daddy either,” Gracie said, shaking her head.
Matt looked down. “I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”
Abby met his eyes over her daughter’s curls and got that warm feeling again, a little deeper this time.
“Who wants to see funny pictures?” Matt asked.
Gracie raised her hand. “Me!”
Charlie stood on his iron chair, double-fisting fries, and lunged over his brother. With quick reflexes, Matt caught Charlie under the arms and settled him in his lap as Gracie inched onto his other knee.
“Okay, let’s see what I’ve got,” Matt said, fiddling with his phone.
He flipped to a photo of six good-looking men.
“Who’s that?” Gracie asked.
“My brothers.”
They all had the same large build, same brown eyes, and similar smile, but even without his white jacket covered in ribbons and medals, she could have picked out Matt. His smile was different, a little lopsided, his eyes a bit more beautiful than the rest.
Then there was a picture of Matt kissing the young bride on her cheek. “Is that your—”
“Sister,” he told her, a smile playing at his lips. “Lizzy.”
The next picture was of Matt still in dress whites, holding a baby in fluffy pink.
“Who’s that?” Gracie sounded more than a tad jealous.
“That’s my niece.”
He was so close the hairs on his arm brushed hers and she felt his voice deep in her chest.
Next was an older, more recent Matt standing with four other men, all of them in camouflage and gear, sweaty and smiling. Matt gave no details, his expression gave away nothing, but he looked at it longer than all the rest.
She wondered again exactly what he did, what he’d seen, and she had the sudden urge to brush his hair back from his forehead, like she did to Jack and Charlie. An urge to hug him, even if he didn’t need it.