"If you want." She didn't move immediately. "Thank you," she said quietly. "For not making it weird." "It was a little weird," he said.
She laughed. "A real one, short, surprised, real." And then she did move, stood up, smoothed her cover up, picked up her sunglasses, back to herself. But something was different now, and they both knew it. Malcolm, you don't have to explain yourself.
I want to. He looked at her. Not here. Not right now. You don't owe me anything.
She held his gaze for a long moment. I owe you an honest conversation, she said. At the very least. Before he could respond, Jaden came sprinting up the beach, hair soaked, grinning wide, holding a shell the size of his fist. "Dad, Dad, look what I found."
Jerome says, "It might be worth something. Is that true?" He skidded to a stop when he saw Viven. Looked her up and down with the blunt appraisal that only a 10-year-old could deliver without it being rude. "Hi, you were at the office once.
You brought donuts. Viven looked startled, then genuinely delighted. I did. You remember that? They were really good donuts.
Jaden turned back to Malcolm. Dad the shell. Show me, Malcolm said. And just like that, the world kept moving, but something had changed. Malcolm could feel it in the way Vivien lingered another 10 minutes before she said her goodbyes.
Could feel it in the way she looked at Jaden one more time before she turned to walk away. Could feel it in the way she glanced back at Malcolm once, just once before the crowd swallowed her up. He told himself he was reading too much into it. He was very good at telling himself that. That night, after Jaden was asleep in the hotel room they were sharing with Jerome's family, Malcolm stood on the balcony and looked out at the ocean.
He thought about what Vivien had said. You were right here. He thought about the weight of her in his lap, about the flash of something vulnerable he'd seen behind her eyes before she'd sealed it up again. About the way she'd known Jaden liked donuts from a visit what, 2 years ago, maybe more. He thought about what it meant that she'd remembered.
He thought about a lot of things he usually kept in a box. His phone buzzed on the railing. A text. Unknown number, but the message gave it away immediately. I know that was unfair.
I'm sorry. V. Malcolm stared at it for a long moment. Then he typed back. No permanent damage done.