Biker's Virgin

“What if we weren’t there, though?”

“You wouldn’t just leave me!” he said.

“Of course we wouldn’t. But we didn’t know where you were.”

He looked down at his shoes. “They were leaving the museum, too,” he said. “I saw all those balloons. So I followed after them because I wanted to see the balloons. And they ended up coming over here, so I sat with them because they were getting frozen yogurt, and I wanted one, too. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

I exhaled. “I’m not mad,” I said. “I was scared. I was afraid something had happened to you.”

“What do you think had happened?”

“We don’t need to get into the details. But I need to know that you understand that you cannot do something like that ever again. It’s not safe. We can’t get separated, okay? When we are in a big place like this, I need to be able to see you at all times. Do you understand?”

He nodded. “Yes,” he said.

“Okay, good. Let’s go back over and find Allie. She’s been really worried, too.”

Declan took my hand, and we walked to the corner and waited for the light to change so we could cross. He had crossed the road by himself. Well, he’d been tagging along with that group of kids, but still. I shuddered at the thought of him dashing across when the oncoming traffic had a green light. Now that he was here, now that he was safe, all those awful possibilities flared again.

Allie was talking with the security guard as we approached, but when she saw that I had Declan, she ran over to us, then dropped down to her knees and threw her arms around him.

“Declan!” she exclaimed. She had tears in her eyes, and I could tell she was trying valiantly not to cry. “Oh, Declan, you’re here! We were so worried about you! Where did you go?”

“He was across the street eating frozen yogurt,” I said.

The security guard gave us a moment and then stepped over to me. “He’s all right?” he said.

“Yes, he’s fine. Thank you for helping us look, though; I really appreciate it.”

He nodded. “Glad this one had a happy ending. They’re not always so lucky.” He gave me a pointed look, and I knew he was trying to shame me, knew he thought of me as just one more careless parent who was too interested in their phone to keep an eye on their kids.

The thing was, he wasn’t too far off. I looked down as Allie was listening to Declan describe where he had gone off to, what flavor frozen yogurt he’d ordered. I hadn’t been distracted by my phone; I’d been distracted by another person, but in the end, did that really matter? What mattered was Declan had run off, and I had allowed it to happen because I’d been preoccupied. I wanted to just erase the whole thing from my memory, because he was here, he was safe. I wanted to embody the all’s well that ends well mantra, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that things could have so easily gone terribly wrong, that this outcome could have certainly gone a different way

.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Allie

We were all shaken up over what happened with Declan, though now that he was back, I was hoping we’d be able to put it behind us.

When we went back to my mother’s apartment, though, it was clear that the day had been altered, that it was no longer a fun, carefree trip, that something had shifted. We ended up cutting the trip short and not staying for dinner, and instead driving back early.

Cole seemed distant, or if not distant, absorbed in his own thoughts. I could tell how bothered he was by the whole thing, and I knew that he blamed himself, even though really, we were both to blame. It had happened so fast, as those things do.

I glanced into the back seat and saw that Declan was fast asleep. I reached over and took Cole’s hand. He didn’t pull his hand back, but his fingers were limp, and he didn’t give me a squeeze back. He kept his eyes glued on the road.

“I am really glad that everything turned out okay,” I said. “I know you’re probably blaming yourself for this, but—”

“No,” he interrupted. “Don’t try to tell me this wasn’t my fault, because that’s a complete lie. This was entirely my fault. I should have been watching him, and I wasn’t.”

“Then it was partially my fault, too,” I said. “We both should have kept an eye on him.”

“You’re not his parent.”

It stung to hear him say it like that. No, I wasn’t his parent, but I felt as though I was responsible for him, too, when we went out.

“I know I’m not,” I said. “And I wasn’t implying that I was. But we had both been keeping an eye on him all day, and maybe you thought that I was going to watch him and that’s why—”