Our room overlooked water—ridiculous blue water. Luke pressed his hands to the glass.
“It’s real,” he breathed. “It’s actually real.”
That night we ate outside. Luke tried conch fritters with suspicion, then declared them “weird but good.” He dipped bread into butter like he’d seen adults do and said, “I feel like a businessman.”
I laughed until my stomach hurt.
The next days were full. Pool until our fingers wrinkled. Water slides until Luke screamed with pure joy. Snorkeling—his first try looked like a confused dolphin, but once he relaxed he glided over bright fish like he belonged.
He popped up sputtering, eyes huge. “Mom! I saw a blue one with stripes!”
“I saw it too,” I said. “It was showing off.”
On the dolphin excursion, Luke cried—quiet tears behind sunglasses as his hand rested on the dolphin’s smooth back.
“You okay?” I asked.
He nodded fast. “Yeah. I just… I didn’t think I’d ever get to do this.”
And I knew he wasn’t talking about dolphins.
He was talking about being included in something good.
Every night we took photos—not staged ones, real ones. Luke with salt on his cheeks laughing with his whole face. Luke holding a souvenir turtle. Luke sprawled on the bed with room-service fries like he’d conquered a kingdom.
On day four he asked, “Do you think Grandma would like it here?”
The innocence almost undid me.
“I think Grandma likes familiar things,” I said carefully. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t like new ones.”
He nodded, then asked, “Do you think she misses us?”
I took a slow breath. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I miss who I wanted her to be.”
Luke was quiet, then said, “I’m glad it’s just us.”
Me too.
On the last day we watched the sun sink into the water. Luke built a crooked sandcastle and named it Fort Luke, with a moat to keep out “mean people and bad jokes.”
“Sounds strong,” I said.
“It is,” he said seriously. “Because you’re the guard.”
My throat tightened. “I’ll always guard you,” I said.
Back home, Dallas felt colder. Our townhouse felt smaller, but in a comforting way—ours, not borrowed.
Luke returned to school with a tan and a quieter confidence that didn’t feel forced.
And I did something I hadn’t planned: I posted the photo album. Luke on the plane grinning. Luke snorkeling. Luke by the water, arms wide. Our room view like a screensaver.
No petty caption. Just: Needed this. Grateful.
I knew Caroline would see. I knew my parents would too.