At a small café near the water, Lily got powdered sugar on her nose, Noato make my hands buzz. The sun warmed the table. A breeze lifted the napkins. People passed by in sandals and linen shirts, carrying beach bags and paper cups.
It felt almost normal.
Then Noah looked past me and said, “Mom, that man keeps staring at us.”
I turned.
A man in a gray suit stood across the street near a parked car.
Not Ryan.
Not anyone I recognized.
He wasn’t holding a camera. He wasn’t approaching. But the moment our eyes met, he looked away too quickly.
My body went alert.
I paid the bill, gathered the children, and guided them toward the beach entrance instead of back to the condo. The man did not follow immediately, but I saw him again twenty minutes later near the lifeguard stand.
This time, I called Dawson.
