I paused, turning over her words. “Wait.” I fixed Xavier with a disbelieving stare. “When you said you booked the hotel, you booked the whole hotel?”

“I like supporting family businesses.” His dimples twinkled with mischief. “I also like privacy.”

The businesswoman in me said he shouldn’t be splashing money around like this when the fate of his inheritance hung in the air.

The romantic in me said to shut up and enjoy the experience. For the first time in my life, the romantic won.

The concierge gave us a quick tour of the hotel’s amenities before taking us outside, where dinner would be served.

“If you’d like to order more food, swimwear, or any other amenities, you can do so using these cards,” she said, handing us each a slim gold card. They had several white buttons embedded in them for various purposes, including housekeeping, dining, and general services. “Enjoy your evening.”

“Thank you,” I said.

The door closed behind her, I turned, and… My heart skipped an awed beat. Wow.

I’d stayed at many luxury hotels in my life. Most were pretty generic in the way all luxury hotels were, but this place was beautiful.

The turquoise lagoon pool featured a miniature waterfall at one end and a hot tub on the other. Lush foliage and custom rockscapes enhanced the tropical vibes, while a cushioned, candlelit cabana infused the scene with dreamy romanticism. Overhead, a glass dome protected the entire space from the elements, and the temperature was a perfect, balmy seventy-five degrees.

We weren’t in Manhattan; we were in the freaking Garden of Eden.

Xavier laced his fingers through mine and pulled me toward the cabana. When we got closer, I noticed the low wooden table was covered with food.

Correction: it was covered with a feast. Coconut puff sticks sat next to grilled and marinated chicken skewers; classic pad Thai noodles starred alongside pineapple fried rice served in an actual hollowed-out pineapple, and an array of soups and curries perfumed the air with lemongrass, ginger, cumin, and a dozen other mouthwatering spices.

My stomach rumbled again with eagerness.

“There’s no way we’ll finish all this,” I said, sinking onto one of the giant cushions that doubled as a seat.

“Probably not,” Xavier admitted. “I didn’t know what dishes you like best, so I ordered a bit of everything.” Another peek of his dimples. “None with walnuts though.”

Those butterflies in my stomach were getting out of hand; I needed pest control or something.

“I don’t think walnuts are usually featured in Thai cooking,” I said, trying to hide the swell in my chest.

“You never know. What do you have against those poor nuts anyway?”

“They look like brains. It creeps me out…Stop laughing.”

“I’m not laughing,” he managed through gusts of laughter. “I just didn’t expect that to be the reason.”

I attempted to hold on to my indignation—my reason for hating walnuts was perfectly valid, thank you very much—but Xavier’s amusement was too infectious, and a smile eventually cracked my frown.

Our rapport took on an easy rhythm as we ate our way through the feast. Talking to Xavier was like talking to one of my best friends. I didn’t have to scrounge for topics or worry he’d take something I said the wrong way. He understood me, and as our conversation wound from food, film, and music to travel, I relaxed to the point where I forgot about everything outside this moment.

“Thailand,” Xavier said when I asked about his favorite places he’d visited so far. “I went after college, fell in love, and stayed there for an entire summer. It was hot as hell, so I spent most of my time at the beach.” A hint of wistfulness flickered over his face. “My mom was a fan too. When I was young, she would tell me about her adventures abroad and how she always went back to Thailand. The culture, the nature, the food...” He nodded at the half-empty dishes in front of us. “She loved it all.”

I remained quiet lest I spook him into withdrawing. Xavier never talked about his mother, and I was fascinated by the glimpse into their relationship.

I knew they’d been close. They’d had to be, considering how devastated he’d been by her death, but I didn’t know the details—the little things that transformed Patricia Castillo from an amorphous piece of the past to a concrete memory.

“Maybe that was why I stayed so long,” Xavier said. “It made me feel closer to her.”

My chest tightened, mirroring the weight he bore. I’d had a few more years with my mother than he’d had with his, but I understood the desire to connect to someone who was no longer there. Their presence, no matter how brief, left an emptiness that could never be truly filled.

“My mother wrote me a letter when I was born.” Xavier’s mouth twisted in a wry smile when my gaze jerked up to his in shock. “I didn’t know about it until last month. My father told me about it during our…during our last conversation. He said he’d forgotten about it because my mom placed it in a safe. I don’t know if I believe him, but I guess it doesn’t matter now. He’s dead, and I have the letter.”

His shrug looked forced. He could pretend it wasn’t a big deal, but it was. We both knew that.

“Did you read the letter?” I asked softly.

His Adam’s apple slid up and down his throat. “Yes.”

I waited, not wanting to push him on such a sensitive topic. I was curious about the letter, but I was more concerned about Xavier. Dealing with his father’s death and a long-lost letter from his mother in such a short period of time must’ve taken a huge toll, especially since he didn’t have anyone to talk to about it. I was the closest thing he’d had to a confidant in that house.

The tightness in my chest compounded.

“It’s funny,” Xavier finally continued. “When I read that letter, I could hear her voice. It was like she was right there, watching over me. She said she couldn’t wait for me to discover my favorite places in the world and that, if I were ever at a loss as to where to go, I should choose a place by the beach. I went to Thailand long before I knew the letter existed, but coincidentally, the beach was one of the reasons I chose to go there. It was far away from my father, surrounded by water, and it reminded me of my mother.” A faint smile. “It was a triple win. I just wish…” The smile faded beneath a shadow of melancholy. “I wish I would’ve found that letter sooner. I might’ve lived my life a little differently. Done things I’d be more proud of.”

“You’re not a bad person, Xavier,” I said, my voice gentle. “You didn’t do anything egregious that you should be ashamed of. And you may not have read her letter until recently, but I think a part of her was always there with you, guiding you. Besides…” My mind slipped to five years ago, when I’d walked away from the only family I’d ever known at the time. “It’s never too late for change. If you’re unhappy with the road you’re traveling, you can choose a new one at any time.”

Xavier stared at me, his eyes a hurricane of emotions I couldn’t decipher.

“I wish she could’ve met you,” he said, so quiet that I felt more than I heard his words. “She would’ve loved you.”

The tightness behind my ribs morphed into a raw, pervasive ache. It spread everywhere—my throat, my nose, behind my eyes and in the deepest grooves of my heart.

I didn’t cry, but this was the closest I’d come to doing so in a long, long time.

“She left this with the letter.” Xavier reached into his pocket and retrieved an antique gold pocket watch. He set it on the table and ran a pensive thumb over the case. “It’s a family heirloom. I’m not a watch person, but I’ve been carrying it around because…I don’t know. It felt right.”

“It’s gorgeous.” I picked the watch up gingerly and opened it, admiring the sapphire accents and exquisite craftsmanship. Whoever made it obviously did so with love; every element was hand tooled to perfection, including the faded but legible engraving: The greatest gift we have is time. Use it wisely.

I studied it, careful not to rub against the time-worn letters. “The quote is a good reminder, isn’t it?” The corners of Xavier’s mouth flicked up without humor. “I wasted years doing nothing with my life. I was so resentful of my father and so scared of fucking up that I didn’t even try. It made sense to me at the time but…” His voice caught. Stalled. Then the conversation turned in a direction I didn’t expect. “Do you know why my mom died?”

I closed the pocket watch and returned it to the table, my heart pounding. “It was a house fire. She didn’t make it out in time.”

“No, that’s how she died, not why.” The hurricane in his eyes brewed into something darker, stronger, beyond the confines of categories. “She died because of me.”

Nothing could’ve prepared me for the punch of his words. Air evacuated from my lungs, and a bruise blossomed where the impact hit, unexpected and agonizing. “Xavier…”

“Don’t,” he said harshly. “Don’t try to say it’s not my fault until you hear the whole story.”

I lapsed into silence, my eyes burning with unshed emotion. “I was ten. My father was away for business, and my mom was volunteering at an event. She loved art, so she donated a lot of money and time to local galleries.” Xavier swallowed. “My father’s birthday was the day after his scheduled return. She wanted to surprise him with a party, and she put me in charge of the decorations. It was my first time being in charge of something so important. I wanted to make them both proud, so I went all out. Balloons. Piñatas.” His knuckles whitened. “Candles.”

An invisible anchor dragged my heart through my stomach. No. “I did a test run to see how everything would look,” Xavier said. “But I thought I heard a noise in another room, and I got distracted. I accidentally knocked one of the candles over.” His eyes were bleak. “I tried to put it out, but there was wood and cardboard everywhere. The fire spread too quickly, and I got trapped. Luckily, we didn’t have a lot of staff back then, just a housekeeper. She was outside checking the mail, and when she saw the flames, she called the fire department. But my mom came home right then, and when she found out I was inside, she didn’t wait for the firefighters. She ran in and pulled me out. We almost made it to the front door before a beam fell and trapped us again. I don’t remember much of what happened after that. I passed out from too much smoke inhalation. When I woke up, I was outside with the medics. I survived. She didn’t.”

I didn’t think; I just reached out and closed my hand around his, wishing I could do something, anything, except listen helplessly.