“Nice job, Charlie!” I sign. “You’ve gotten almost every one right. Are you sure those are the battlements, there?” I point to the part of the castle that Charlie has labeled wrong.

  Charlie scrunches up his mouth, and then flips his pencil around and erases his answer. He replaces it with the correct one and I give him the thumbs up.

  “Why don’t you put that in your backpack and we’ll fill the rest of it out at a real-life castle?” I ask.

  “Really?” Charlie signs.

  He’s up on his feet before I can answer, stuffing the papers into his pack. I throw a few snacks, water bottles, and the pile of euros that Jason left into my purse, and soon we’re heading out the door.

  Dublin Castle is within walking distance from the hotel, and I hold Charlie’s hand as we begin the trek. The hotel is in a nice, historic part of town, and as we walk, I point to interesting architectural features as I see them.

  Charlie’s in high spirits, and I am too. The shower and coffee helped, and I no longer feel exhausted. The excitement of finally seeing Ireland, after years of dreaming of it, is catching up to me.

  As people pass us by on the street, I look at their faces, trying to see if I resemble anyone. I must still have ancestors here, and it’s fun to note the people who have auburn hair, or the same shaped nose as me.

  We stop at a crosswalk and I catch sight of a woman who seriously looks so much like me, only older. I swivel around, trying to keep her in sight as she disappears down the sidewalk.

  She fades into the crowd quickly, but I don’t turn around right away. Instead, my eyes land on someone that I know I saw earlier. It’s a man, probably in his thirties, wearing dark sunglasses and a baseball hat pulled low over his brow. I know that I saw him because I remember thinking how odd it was that he was wearing so much sun protection, despite the gray overcast sky.

  But as I look over my shoulder, he walks into a shop.

  Just a coincidence, I tell myself. Still, it gives me an odd feeling in my gut—just the faintest twinge of instinctive fear.

  The crosswalk lights up, and Charlie tugs on my hand. As we cross the street, I look back once more, just to make sure that the man in sunglasses isn’t there. He’s not.

  Chill out, I tell myself. It was nothing.

  The two of us enjoy exploring the castle. We opt out of the tour, and instead take our time, with a map in our hands, covering every inch of the grounds. There are two museums, a few cafes and an impressive garden, where we sit side by side on a bench and read from the packet that I prepared.

  At two thirty, I realize that we need to get moving if we’re going to make it to the zoo entrance in time. Charlie’s reluctant to leave the castle grounds, but when I tell him about the animals at the zoo, plus the fact that his dad will be there, he immediately comes around to the idea.

  We step back onto the bustling sidewalk, and it’s like stepping out of medieval times back into the twenty-first century. I look up the zoo address on my phone, and then scan the streets around us, trying to figure out which way to go.

  The clouds have cleared and the sun has been shining for most of the afternoon, but as I look around me, a dark cloud rolls right in front of the sun. The sidewalk is filled with shadows, and a chill passes over me. Then, in a fleeting instant, I feel that twinge of fear again.

  Danger! my gut whispers.

  I shiver again, and look around me. This time, I’m not reading signs. I’m looking for evidence that someone is watching Charlie and me. I feel like we’re being followed.

  The cloud continues on its way, and soon the sun is shining again.

  I feel my heart beating fast. Charlie reaches up for my hand. “Which way?” he asks.

  I try to look calm. “I think we need to go left.” I look down at the map on my phone one last time to verify our route. “Yes, left,” I sign.

  We head that way, me walking and Charlie skipping.

  I can’t shake the creeped-out feeling until we turn again onto a quiet side street. Out of the tourist-crowded bustle of the street in front of the castle, I feel some sense of peace and order returning to me. It was nothing, I tell myself. You spooked yourself by examining everyone around you, looking for long-lost ancestors. That feeling of being watched is just your overactive imagination, conjuring up the ghosts of Kellys past.

  Even though I do a good job of rationalizing my fear, I still feel a whoosh of relief as we spot Jason among the crowd at the zoo entrance.

  I hang back as Charlie excitedly fills Jason in on our castle adventure, letting father and son have some time together. The zoo is beautifully kept, the animals have lots of space to run and play, and at every display, there’s a full spread of interesting information. My teacher instincts are pleased by the fact that Charlie is having fun and learning at the same time.

  After we leave the elephants, Charlie runs ahead. I pick up my pace so that I’m not awkwardly lagging behind.

  “What do you think?” Jason asks me when I catch up.

  “I haven’t been to a zoo since I was six years old,” I say. “But zoos weren’t like this when I was a kid. This is so much better—the animals seem really happy.”

  Jason nods. “They do, don’t they?”

  Charlie, who is now ten feet down the pathway ahead of us, suddenly doubles back. He’s out of breath when he arrives in front of us.

  “Dad! Harper! Guess what?”

  “What?” I sign.

  “There’s a meerkat meet-and-greet, right up there! Can I go? Please?”

  Jason laughs, and then signs his answer. “Of course, buddy. Have fun.”

  Charlie runs off, and Jason and I are left momentarily alone.

  Now that we have some privacy, I consider bringing up the strange feeling of being watched that I experienced earlier that day. I’m 99% convinced that it was nothing, but that one percent chance that my instincts were correct won’t let me rest.

  “Hey, Jason,” I say softly, wondering even as I speak how I might relay my suspicions without sounding paranoid.

  My voice is so soft that Jason doesn’t hear me, and he starts talking before I can try again.

  “Hey, can you keep an eye on Charlie for me? I just spotted the gift shop back there and I’m going to run back and grab him a toy meerkat as a surprise.”

  “Sure,” I say.

  I walk toward the meerkat station, where Charlie is petting the top of a furry little animal’s head. The meerkat, which looks like a skinnier version of a prairie dog, is standing on its hind legs, clearly enjoying Charlie’s pets. Charlie is beaming down at the tan and brown scruffball with a look of total awe and adoration.

  It’s a photo op in the making, so I quickly pull my phone from my purse and begin snapping pictures. I took some at the castle too, and I can’t wait to send the whole batch to Jason.

  “They don’t usually hold still for so long,” a woman standing nearby says. I look over and see that she’s wearing a zoo-keeper uniform.

  “The kids or the meerkats?” I ask, and she laughs.

  “Both, but I was talking about the meerkats. They usually scurry away once they eat the treats. Children tend to move too quickly for them.”

  “Charlie’s mature for his age,” I say. “He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  The zookeeper nods. “Animals can pick up on that.”

  There’s a line of kids waiting for their time in the pen, and after another couple minutes, and five hundred photos, Charlie’s time is up. The zookeeper gives him a little handshake and looks at me.

  “You’ve raised a good boy, miss,” she says. “Your son is adorable.”

  I swallow. My heart hurts a little. Charlie, who hasn’t heard this comment, runs over and reaches for my hand. As his little fingers grasp mine, I feel myself smile weakly.

  “Thank you,” I say. “I’m not his mother, though. I’m his tutor.”

  “Oh!” Her eyebrows shoot up. “I never would have guessed. Well, you two enjoy your day.”

  She turns back to the line of children and moves on with her day, not knowing how her words have affected me.

  I’m left with this hollow ache inside of me. My son—Charlie. Imagine! If I keep tutoring him, how many more times will this same mistake repeat itself? As the months go on, will I learn to handle it any better? Or will this aching feeling only become worse?

  Chapter 16

  Jason

  I flip through the papers a third time, scanning the numbers and hoping desperately to see something there that I missed before. Something that will make this deal seem like a good idea.

  I’d like nothing better than to turn Rayne or Shine Steel into a truly global operation, but the numbers aren’t promising. The construction firm has lowballed me, and nothing I said during our lunch meeting earlier today worked to change their minds. The thing is, the European laws about building safety are so new. This firm sees my steel as an extra, add-on expense, not a priority.

  I blow out some hot air and place the papers down on the desk in front of me.

  Looking over the numbers isn’t going to help me figure out where to go from here. I wish that I had someone to talk to.

  I wonder what Harper is doing.

  Charlie is fast asleep, so every time I hear a faint noise travel through the hotel room, I know that it’s Harper, moving around next door. She’s so close. Only one wall separates us.

  I’ve already had one Jack and coke, and I want another. But I don’t want to drink alone.

  Who am I kidding? It’s not just that I’d like some company—it’s that I want her company.

  She’s been driving me crazy all day.

  It’s like she always knows what to say to make me feel more at ease. She’s so tuned into me. At times, I slip into imagining that she’s my girlfriend, or even—and this scares me the most—my wife.

  When I see her with Charlie, I can’t help but fantasize that we’re a family. This morning, when she handed me that cup of coffee, I swear, I almost kissed her on the cheek, as if we’d been married for ten years.

  Thinking of marriage causes a knot to tighten in my stomach. It’s a gnarly, resilient knot of guilt. It never goes away, but sometimes I manage to forget that it’s there.

  I jump up, out of the hard chair that’s pulled up to the desk, and begin pacing the room.

  I don’t want to think about the car wreck that took my wife’s life.

  I don’t want to think about the threats, the court battle, or the evidence that chilled me to the bone.

  But the more I try not to think about it, the more that I do.

  Each time I pace across the room, I move closer and closer to the doorway. I know where my feet are taking me, but I try to fight it.

  Eventually, I can’t. I open the door, step over to room 47, and knock.

  A minute passes, and then two.

  Then Harper answers. She looks beautiful, as always. Her auburn hair is down, and she’s in a pair of pink shorts and a white tank top. Her figure is all curves.

  It’s good to see her. Too good.

  “Care for a drink?” I ask. I realize then that I still have my glass in my hand. There’s only the pale amber remnants of one last sip of my cocktail amidst melting ice. I hold it up. “I was about to pour a second for myself, and I’d love some company.”

  Harper is studying me. Her body language says that she wants to join me, but something is holding her back.

  “Are you sure that would be a good idea?”

  Her question hangs in the air between us. It’s the closest we’ve come to addressing the murky waters we’ve both been navigating.

  I know it’s a loaded question; she’s not just asking me if a nightcap in my suite tonight is a good idea, she’s asking about all of it. Us, spending time together and growing closer. Is that a good idea?

  Maybe it’s because I’ve had one drink already, or maybe it’s because she’s standing in front of me in nothing but shorts and a tank top, but I find myself nodding.

  “We’ll just talk,” I say. I’m aware that I’m skirting around the issue of our kiss, but I don’t quite know how to address that yet.

  My statement seems to convince her, and she smiles.

  “Okay,” she says. “Actually, I could use a drink. That coffee I had at the zoo hasn’t quite worn off yet.”

  “Twired?” I joke.

  She laughs, and steps out into the hallway with me. I lead the way into my suite.

  After pouring both of us a Jack and coke, I settle onto the couch, and Harper joins me. This time, there’s a flat-screen television in front of the couch, rather than a fireplace. I don’t turn the TV on, though. I don’t want to look at the screen.

  “How did the meeting go?” Harper asks. She glances at the desk across the room. My laptop is open, and papers and folders lie scattered about. I’m sure she can tell that I’ve been working late.

  “Terrible,” I say. “I thought that I could talk to these guys just like I talk to clients in the States. I used the same sales pitch, which was a major mistake. I should have known better.”

  Harper shakes her head. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up about it. You know what I tell my students?”

  “What?”

  “The real failure is in not trying.”

  I feel my shell cracking. I’ve been trying to keep it together all evening, but now that she’s here, looking at me with those big, sympathetic eyes, I feel myself falling apart, just a little.

  “I don’t know,” I say, frowning. “I always thought, when I started this company, that things would get easier as the years went on, but each new success brings fresh responsibilities. Maybe I shouldn’t have even gone after this international deal. It will only mean longer hours and more traveling.”

  Harper looks sympathetic, and I feel my concerns grow inside of me, spilling out like water from behind a dam that’s just been released. One of my deepest concerns is coming to the surface now, carried by the momentum of the others. I can’t seem to stop it.

  “What if I’m failing Charlie?” I say, my voice trembling. “It’s like—I think that my wins and losses have to do with my company, but I could be all wrong.”

  Harper sets her drink down on the table. She hasn’t even taken a sip yet. She turns to me, her eyes wide and filled with sympathy.

  “Jason, listen to me. You’re not failing Charlie. You’re an amazing father. You love him, and he knows it. It’s your love that gives him so much confidence, and his ability to be so loving to others.”

  Harper inches closer to me. I feel a flood of attraction wash over me, stealing my breath. I thought I could handle this, that I could manage my attraction to her, but now I realize that I’m playing with fire.

  The knot of guilt, which I’ve been trying to ignore, tightens in my core. Don’t do this, Jason. Don’t put her in danger. Remember what happened last time.

  Harper reaches for my hand and I freeze. Her touch is so nurturing, so warm and filled with love. She only wants to comfort me, but the longer she touches me, the harder it is to resist.

  I pull my hand away.

  A crease forms across her forehead, darting down between her beautiful eyes. She backs away from me, on the couch, returning to her original position a safe distance away. I watch her reach for her drink and take a long sip.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  I’m doing it again. Skirting around the issue. I need to be direct with her. She’s clearly hurt.

  “I’m sorry,” I repeat, shaking my head this time, trying to figure out the right words to say. She takes another gulp of her drink and then looks at me. Her eyes sparkle with a hint of anger.

  “For what?” she dares me.

  “Harper—I don’t… I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be this intimate with each other.”

  “Oh,” she says. “Right. Holding hands is somehow crossing the line? Jason… I don’t know what’s happening here.”

  Her voice wavers with confusion. “I wanted to wait until we got back from Ireland to talk about it, but maybe that’s not going to work. We kissed. Remember?”

  Do I remember? I’ve thought about that kiss a thousand times a day since it happened.

  Harper continues. “And we can’t just pretend that didn’t happen. If I’m going to work for you—if I’m going to be a part of Charlie’s life—then we have to talk about this.”

  I know she’s right, but I don’t know what to say.

  She stands up. “I mean, when you pull away from me like this—”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I interject, standing up and meeting her eyes.

  “Well, you did. This is confusing, Jason.” She lifts a hand and rakes it through her hair. “Maybe, if you want to keep things professional, you shouldn’t have invited me here for drinks. You shouldn’t share personal things with me. You shouldn’t look at me like that.”

  I’m realize I’m gazing at her again. I can’t help myself.

  “Harper—” I stop short. She’s waiting for me to say more, but the knot of guilt in my stomach stops me.

  As the seconds stretch on, she begins walking away from me, toward the door.

  I want to say something that will stop her. I want to tell her how much she means to me, and how much I value her presence in our lives—Charlie’s and mine.

  I want to tell her how breathtakingly beautiful she is, and that I knew she was special the moment I saw her. I want to tell her that if I knew of a way to make this any less confusing for us, I would. But the guilt inside of me halts the words in my throat, and I swallow them down before speaking.

  What if I allow myself to open up to her and she ends up getting hurt?

  “Jason,” she says, turning back to me as she nears the door. She looks down at the ground for a moment, as if trying to steel herself. “I was worried about getting involved with you, at first, because I work for you. But—”

  “That’s not why I’m holding back, Harper,” I say, before I can stop myself.

  “Then what is it, Jason?” She looks at me with those big eyes, begging me to tell her more.