Page 102 of Deacon

The last thing I wished for was to drag Deacon into my mess.

I never wanted to take him for granted. His care and support over the past few weeks were invaluable.

I was learning that beneath his rock-star, badass image, he was the most generous man I’d ever met.

He rescued me in Ethiopia and held me while I bawled in his arms over Estella, and he supported me through my current breakup.

He deserved my utmost devotion, even if I could offer him nothing more than friendship.

For now, that was all I could hope for, until the storm around me passed.

DEACON

Standing by Ana as she endured one disaster after another, unable to kiss her or rock her to sleep each night, was brutal, but the way she handled the crisis was extraordinary.

She poured everything into Raff, keeping him blissfully unaware while her own life went up in flames.

They spent time reading on the sun terrace; Ana got absorbed in her romantasy obsession, as Raff delved into his Percy Jackson lore.

We also played intense games of chess and cards at the dining table. I won a few rounds of Poker before Raff caught on and started beating me.

In the afternoons, after lunch and whatever vigorous activity our son threw himself into, Ana and Raff stretched out on the lounge.

She held him close as they napped, entwined.

I respected the way she pushed her own shit aside to focus on Raff and keep him grounded.

Maybe it was a coping mechanism, but I didn’t give a damn about the reason.

All I cared about was that our kid was thriving under our shared attention.

I’d always known he wanted the three of us to live together.

He’d made it clear more than once.

‘Why can’t Mum live with us like we used to?’ he used to ask.

Back then, I hadn’t had any answers for him. I deflected his questions, but he’d never let the subject go.

Now, during a late-afternoon swim, Raff paddled over to me and settled his chin on the edge of the pool.

‘Hey, Dad, can we do stuff like this more often? Like birthdays or little holidays with Mum?’

I reached out and ruffled his wet hair, masking the sudden ache in my throat.

‘We’ll see, shorty,’ I said. ‘One step at a time.’

I glanced towards Ana, who sat beneath a canvas awning thirty feet away.

Her head rested against the back of the white lounger, dark sunglasses hiding her eyes as her fingers moved across her iPad.

I noticed the tightness in her jaw and sensed her mind was churning over the public mess with Max.

I gave her space and all the grace I could.

We’d gone through hell during our divorce.

However, this time together proved we could repair our broken fences, even as her current marriage fell apart.