Page 82 of Sucker For You

“Is it?”

Wes cursed under his breath and followed the exit directions to Morrissey Boulevard. The beachy city of Santa Cruz coalesced around them: kiosks selling tie-dye and crystals, window displays of books on mysticism, Thai food and tarot readings, racks of electric bicycle rentals, coffee shops with marijuana on the menu, and more surfboards than she could count. He decelerated at a traffic light outside the Rio Theater. His ears were pink under a thin sheen of sunscreen. His thumb tapped again. He sighed.

“Fine. Yes, I’m nervous.”

“Because they might not like me.”

“Might not—No. No, Isabel, I’m not worried that Erin and Adrian won’t like you. They will. I’m worried you won’t likethem.”

What?He was nervous about her not liking his siblings? Erin and Adrian were his family. Hot sauces or no, how could she not like them?

That wasn’t the problem at all.

She didn’t tell him that. She couldn’t. But she could reassure him. “I will. Iwilllike them. Today will be fine.”

“. . . thanks.”

They pulled into the Beach Street parking lot near Santa Cruz’s municipal wharf. Wes exhaled; when his smile returned, it was softer, golden—and her heart lurched as he offered his hand. His fingers interlaced with hers while they strolled across a trolley track to the boardwalk. This was how couples walked, wasn’t it? How they should walk for the immigration interviewer, and for Erin and Adrian.Whirlpool romance. Holding hands in the sunshine. . .

Yes, this day would be fine—for him.

“Ready?” he asked her a second time, when a voice near a ticket stand called his name.

“Wes, over here!” A woman’s ponytail flickered in the breeze above the lettering on a STEMinist graphic shirt. Erin Monaghan waved a ream of ride coupons. She motioned them toward her group: Ethan Meyer, holding Erin’s free hand with ink-stained fingers, wearing a fleece vest and holding the leash of a golden retriever in a vest of its own—plus a man who must be Adrian Monaghan (taller and thinner than both, with a sharp jaw and well-cut hair) in a Vuori jacket and aviator sunglasses.

Isabel could see her reflection approaching in those lenses.

Theirreflection.

Ready or not.

And then—thenit was happening: all the anxiety and anticipation of this moment arriving in a crash, surrounded by noise and movement and carnival tickets, Erin hurtling into her brother’s chest for a hug, Adrian slapping Wes’s shoulder so hard that he choked out a gasp of laughter and stuck a retaliatory finger into the other Monaghan’s ear. Isabel lost her grip on his hand. But it was all right. She’d promised him it would be fine.

“You made it over the Santa Cruz mountains in one piece?”

“Adrian rented an Audi e-tron.”

“Christ.”

“Well, I’m meeting with investors in San Francisco until Friday.”

“You also knew you’d be transporting a dog to the beach, right? Hey, Bunsen.” Wes dropped to his heels to rub the dog’s ears. Brown eyes adored him. “Ethan, how’s life?”

“Wes,” Ethan acknowledged him with a slight smile, while watching his dog’s good sit and thumping tail for a moment. But then he looked past the Monaghans’ loud, instant descentinto conversation, and straight at Isabel. His smile angled in a crooked curve. Dark eyebrows tilting, he shrugged a question.

She understood.

Overwhelmed, right? But good?

Had it been this way for him too, the first time he’d met the siblings all together? She didn’t envy his hot-sauce ordeal. Of course, Ethan and Erin Monaghan had been an actual couple when Wes and Adrian subjected him to their trial by fire. They’d stress-tested him because it mattered, because he was an authentic possible addition to the family, not just—

No.

She bit her tongue and froze that thought. Instead, she nodded.

Yes, overwhelmed. But yes, fine.

She’d promised Wes.