“Oh, cool…” He looked at them in amazement. “I can keep them all?”
“All of them. Which one is your favorite?”
“This one.” He cradled the hammerhead shark the way other kids might cradle a kitten.
“Smile!” Lucy took a picture of him holding up his shark like it was flying. Then he threw his arms around her neck and clung to her tightly. She hugged him back, just as hard. He smelled like No More Tears baby shampoo, her favorite scent in the world.
“I gotta go,” she whispered.
Christopher pulled away and smiled bravely. “Good luck.”
“I’ll need it.” She held his face in her hands, met his eyes. “I’ll text Mrs. Bailey when I can, and she can give you messages from me. Okay?”
“Okay.” He nodded. Then he said softly, “I’ll try to answer if you call me.”
“You will? You don’t have to do that. I can send messages. And I’ll definitely bring you Mr. Masterson’s autograph.”
“And the book?”
Now it was her turn to smile bravely. “You know, there’s a chance I may not win it. Four people are competing.”
“I wished for you to win it.”
“That should do it then.” She gave him a last hug, told him she loved him, and then as if ripping off a Band-Aid fast, she got out of the car, hugged Theresa, and took her suitcase.
“Knock ’em dead,” Theresa said. “Don’t let anyone intimidate you. You’re a kindergarten TA. You can handle that? You can handle anything.”
Lucy blew Christopher one last kiss. He waved out the window the entire time the car was in view.
She took a deep breath and headed into the airport. It had been several years since she’d taken a trip by plane, or any trips at all. She was really going back to Clock Island. She still couldn’t quite believe it.
By the time she got through security and reached her gate, it was nearly time to start boarding. She anxiously paced, trying to get her nervous energy out before she had to sit for six straight hours. At first, she didn’t feel her phone vibrating in the back pocket of her jeans. It stopped and then started again. She pulled it out and saw someone was calling from Maine, an unknown number.
This past week she’d answered every call she’d gotten from an unknown number in case it was Jack Masterson’s people calling.
Trying to sound adult, detached, and professional, she said, “This is Lucy Hart.”
There was a brief pause before the person on the other end spoke.
“Hey, Goose.”
Lucy knew that voice. She knew that voice and hated that voice. Her blood went cold.
“Sean? What…Why are you calling me?”
“Heard a rumor you were coming back to Portland for a few days. Congrats, by the way. On this contest thing, I mean. What’s that all about anyway?”
She took a deep breath. “You can google it,” she said.
Her ex-boyfriend was the last person on the planet she wanted to talk to right now. Actually, no. He was the second-to-last person in the world she wanted to talk to. Her sister, Angie, would be first, but Sean was a close second.
“Why don’t you tell me? Sounds fun.” Once upon a time, she thought this man hung the moon in the sky just for her. Now she knew he hung the moon in the sky because he wanted her to see how handsome he looked in the moonlight.
“I’m about to board. What do you want, Sean? Seriously.”
“Come on, Goose. Don’t be like that. I know things ended badly between us. Mostly my fault, but we’re both grown-ups. Let’s act like it and let it go.”
Mostly his fault? Mostly?
There was no point getting angry at him. Anger was a form of attention, and he fed off attention like plants on sunlight.
“What can I do for you, Sean?” she said as calmly as she could, though her eyes kept darting to the gate agent, praying they would start boarding soon.
“Let’s get coffee when you’re in town.”
“I can’t. I’ll be on the island the whole time.”
“Island. Nice. Playing in the big leagues again,” he said, and she pictured a smug grin on his face. “Good for you.”
She didn’t say anything to that. She knew better.
“So hey, congrats again. I know you loved those little Clock books. Never understood them myself, but I never really read children’s fiction, even as a child. Too simplistic, you know?”
“I’m simplistic,” Lucy said.
“Nah. I wouldn’t have fallen for you if you’d been simplistic. You’re a lot smarter and more interesting than you think you are.”
She didn’t trust his compliments. By flattering her, he flattered himself because that meant he had good taste. “What happened to ‘Stop being so stupid, Lucy’？”
“Hey. As I said, we both behaved badly there. I admit it. Can’t you?”
The gate agent at the desk picked up the microphone and announced they would now begin preboarding. Lucy could have kissed the woman.
“I have to go. I’m boarding now. First class,” she said because she couldn’t help herself. “Bye, Sean.”
“Don’t hang up,” he said. He wasn’t begging. This was an order. “I have the right to know what happened with the kid.”
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes. She was not going to cry before boarding her plane. She was going to remain calm.
“You’re right. You deserve to know,” she said. “But why wait until now to call? You never even texted. Not once. In three years.”
Was Sean capable of feeling shame? Probably not, but at least she’d finally asked a question he didn’t have a slick answer for. She knew why he was calling her now. The contest was all over the news. Sean had heard her name and remembered she existed. Even better—Lucy was getting her fifteen minutes of fame. Why not call and bask a little in that fame? Why not call and make her big adventure about him? Everything in the world was about him anyway.
“I’m asking now, Lucy.”
“There was no kid,” she said. “Congratulations. You’re not a father. Happy? You can admit it.”
His cold laugh made the hair on her arms stand up. “I should have known you were lying. Sorry your little game didn’t work on me.”
“Of course you’d assume I’m as awful a person as you are.”
“I don’t think I—”
“I don’t care what you think. Goodbye, Sean. Never call me again.”
“Whatever you—”
Lucy ended the call. She stood up and gathered her bags. It was a relief to rush onto the plane, to settle into the big wide soft chair, to turn her face to the window and hide her eyes. She took slow breaths to calm her racing heart. She hoped whoever sat next to her would think she was shaking because she was afraid of flying, not because her ex-boyfriend still had the power to rattle her like this. She hated that he could ruin her day with one phone call. No, she wasn’t going to let him do this to her again. She wasn’t a kid anymore. She wasn’t his little doll anymore. She wasn’t under his thumb anymore. She would not give him the satisfaction.
No, she decided then and there she would win this contest. She would win the book. She would read it to Christopher to celebrate, and the very next day she would sell it to a publisher for as much money as she could get.