“The west side of the island has a beautiful view of the sunset. Nash can take you to see it,” I say, breaking the silence. My son doesn’t respond as he continues eating like he didn’t hear me. Zara glances back and forth between us. She and I stare at each other a moment. Then, she turns to Nash and touches his arm. “I want to see it.” It’s not a request or a question. She’s demanding it, and I almost want to laugh.
