She also wanted to know that he was being well taken care of.
And she so desperately needed to know that he would soon be completely and permanently out of her life.
She was pulling onto Ocean Breeze when the reason for her conundrum hit her. She was over Grayson Bartholomew, which was why she’d truly wanted her brother to offer to help the man in his time of need.
He wasn’t a bad guy. She’d never have been so deeply in love with him if he had been. And because she was over him, the hurt inflicted by the inability of their lives to fit together was past. A part of her past. A memory.
The current problem had to do with the fact that she’d never let go of how badly she’d been hurt. Unbeknownst to her, she’d been living the life of the victim—even while she’d taken control, taken charge and had built the life she’d wanted more than any other.
It wasn’t the pain itself that was getting in her way. It was the fact that she’d been hurt. That her life’s plans had been so abruptly and painfully interrupted.
It was hard to believe, with all that she’d accomplished, all that she’d built. But in that one area, she hadn’t moved on.
Leigh was still happily busting out tunes as Sage pulled into their driveway. And, glancing back at the little girl, Sage smiled, feeling as though she was back in control. She knew the problem.
So could find the solution.
“As soon as Mommy gets changed, you want to walk up the beach and meet a nice man who’s staying with Uncle Scott for a while?” she asked her daughter. Gray might not be home. And if not, they’d try again another time.
The point was they’d try.
“Can I play with Morgan?” Leigh asked, her still-babyish features pulled into a frown.
“If she’s out, of course you can.”
“Yeah!” Leah chimed, her little feet kicking back and forth as she reached to unlatch the buckle across her chest, and then the trickier one at her waist. No matter how long it took, Sage wasn’t supposed to help. She’d been given the mandate quite clearly shortly after the little girl’s fourth birthday and respected Leigh’s need to take charge of her own destiny in the areas where a four-year-old could do so.
And reminded herself of that when, twenty minutes later, barefoot and in a black-and-white-flowered sundress, Sage headed out to the beach. She wanted Leigh to hold her hand.
Needed her to.
The next minutes weren’t going to be a cakewalk. But in the end, the result would be like a birthday celebration. A rebirth.
A new birth.
For herself.
“No!” Leigh said, not in a scream, but quite emphatically, pulling both of her hands into her chest. “You telled me, here to there, I don’t have to.”
She’d set those boundaries, yes, but...
“You held Uncle Scott’s and Miss Iris’s hands the other night.”
“I know,” the little girl said, as though she was tired of being told something she already knew.
Focused fully on the child, Sage wondered what she’d done. Had she somehow transmitted her uneasiness to Leigh? “Are you mad at Mommy?”
With her arms crossed against her chest, Leigh stood there. “No.”
“Then why don’t you want to hold my hand?”
“Because I want to do this!” Leigh yelled out with a laugh and turned a somersault in the sand.
Her heart giving a jump, her insides filling with light, Sage said, “A somersault! Oh my goodness, Leigh Marie! Did you learn that today?”
With sand dropping from ringlet curls, Leigh jumped up and danced back and forth between her two feet. “I been learning at school, and today I gotted it!” At that, she bent and turned another circle feet over head in the sand. And then reached for Sage’s hand.
“I did it good, huh, Mommy?” the little girl asked, as she half danced next to Sage, pulling on her arm with each hop, as they made their way slowly down the beach.
