Someone Else’s Life(2)

“She’s one of those enthusiastic types. Way too cheerful.” Annie looked away, not wanting to see the disappointment in his eyes.

Brody heaved a sigh and turned to her. “You don’t like her just ’cause she’s cheerful?” He crossed his arms over his broad chest, causing her eyes to focus on his sternum. It had once been her favorite place to lay her head. When was the last time she’d done that?

“We have nothing in common.” Annie gave a shrug and looked down, noticing a small box sitting by the front door. Where had that come from? She didn’t remember seeing it before.

“You did once.” Brody’s voice softened. “You used to be like her. Friendly and . . .”

Annie wrinkled her nose when he trailed off. “And now I’m just a grumpy old potato? I think I’m a fucking blast of sunshine, thank you very much.”

Brody’s mouth twitched, and then he gave in and laughed, reaching out to draw her into a hug. “You sure are my fucking blast of sunshine.” He leaned down to kiss her on the top of her head, and Annie relaxed into him.

She’d missed this. The closeness they’d once had, when she couldn’t wait to hug and kiss him. She’d destroyed all that the past few years with her grumpiness and sour moods. She needed to try harder with both Brody and Finn. Moving to paradise was supposed to be a new beginning, their chance to make things better again. Kauai had always made her heart happy in the past, and she was determined to absorb the Aloha spirit, even if it killed her.

“It’d be nice for you to make some friends here. Maybe even get a job.” Brody’s voice rumbled in his chest, and Annie pulled away.

“Who’d have me? I’m a failure. A washed-up ex-dancer who lost her company and studio.” She turned and focused her eyes on Finn, who was walking around the backyard.

“You’re not a failure.” Brody’s voice was firm and she melted, just a little. Her husband had stood by her these last few years while Annie had dealt with one blow after another. He had the patience of a saint. If the roles were reversed, Annie wasn’t sure she would have been as understanding as he’d been with her.

She turned and met Brody’s eyes. “I know it’s been almost four years. I’m trying, okay?” She pursed her lips, fighting the tears that threatened.

Brody reach out and brushed a thumb under her eye, catching the lone tear that fell. But before he could say anything, Finn shouted at them, “We’re going to be late, Daddy.”

Annie gave her husband a tremulous smile. “You’d better go.”

They shared a look, and then both glanced at the main house, where Annie’s father lived with Annie’s younger sister, Sam, and Sam’s six-year-old daughter, Cameron. Annie’s father didn’t believe in therapy, and his Taiwanese family did not speak of mental health issues. Annie and Brody had an unspoken agreement not to let her father know that Finn was seeing someone after the incident back in New York.

“Finn still won’t talk about it.” Brody dropped his voice. “He’s almost emotionless when he talks to the therapist. Like . . . he’s not there. The only time he seems upset by what happened is at night. The nightmares.”

Even though she knew her father couldn’t hear them from inside the house, she lowered her voice too.

“But he likes the therapist?” Guilt twisted in Annie’s gut that she’d never taken Finn to an appointment. Years of growing up in her Asian family had made her resistant to therapy.

Annie had been born in Taiwan. Her First Auntie, her father’s oldest sister, was always going on about how smart her kids were, how they weren’t weak and didn’t bring shame on her, unlike—and here she always dropped her voice to a whisper, as if talking about something dirty—Fourth Auntie’s daughter, who’d been hospitalized after attempting suicide. Annie’s mom had been born on Oahu and was more progressive, but she wasn’t around anymore.

Brody nodded as Finn came running back to them.

Finn slipped his hand into Brody’s and tugged, gazing at his father with trust. “Let’s go. You said we could have shaved ice after.”

Watching them together, Annie couldn’t deny a stab of jealousy at their bond. She reached out and took Finn’s other hand, wanting to be a part of their circle. Finn held her hand tightly but wouldn’t meet her eyes. This was their relationship. Damaged, just like Annie’s heart had been ever since her dog, Lili, and her mother had died four years ago, just a few months apart. Why couldn’t she be easy and comfortable around Finn, the way Brody was? Finn was her son too, yet so often, she didn’t know how to make him happy.

Brody picked Finn up, breaking Annie’s connection to him, and tossed him in the air. “You’re getting too heavy for this.” He groaned as Finn giggled in delight, clutching his bear. Brody turned to Annie. “We’ll see you later? Maybe do something special?”

Annie nodded, puzzled about what he meant by “special,” and then on impulse, she stood on her tiptoes—Brody was six one to her five two—and planted a kiss on his lips.

When he responded, she leaned into him, thinking how much she’d missed this, until Finn screeched, “Ew, stop kissing Mommy. We have to go.”

Annie and Brody broke apart and laughed.

They were about to leave when she suddenly remembered the box by the door. She gestured to it. “Hey, did you put that there?”