“Okay,” I murmur to myself.
My eyes flit back to the email and my disappointment and shame rush back.
I need more than luck.
Chapter 9
Gage
I spot her the moment she walks onto the beach. She’s dressed in an orange dress that shows off her tanned shoulders and slender legs. Her long hair is pulled away from her face, a few pieces escaping and blowing around her cheeks in the breeze.
“God, she’s fucking gorgeous,” I mutter.
“She always was,” Svetlana agrees. “Your mom and pop are happy she’s here. All they’ve ever wanted for you was to find a partner.” Svetlana glances over her shoulder at my brother Joe. Then, she turns back to me. “We’re all proud of you, Gage. What you’ve achieved professionally is incredible. But we all want to see you happy too and Callie’s always made you perk up.” She presses a kiss to one of my cheeks before smacking her palm against my other cheek. “Don’t fuck it up.”
I snicker as she walks away. “Yeah, thanks.”
She waves at me over her shoulder.
I turn back toward Callie, frowning when I note she’s pulled into a conversation with my sisters. She has Matteo perched on her hip and she’s grinning at something my niece is saying.
Sighing, I swipe a beer from Pablo.
“Can’t believe your parents have been married for fifty years,” he remarks, surprisingly sentimental.
“Yeah,” I agree, turning to take in the party. A tent has been set up on the beach. Several tables have been prepared, the table settings elegant yet simple. Beautiful floral arrangements decorate each table, and a nameplate, written in fancy script, sits in the center of each plate. The plates are painted with sweeping greens and ripe oranges—a symbol of my mother’s birthplace.
“Your parents are truly living the dream,” Pablo continues.
I glance at him, noting the way he stares at Mom and Pop, a small grin on his lips. His father passed years ago in a tragic storm that resulted in flash flooding. Since then, he and his mom, my aunt Maria, were constant fixtures at our family dinners and holidays. Mom and Pop enveloped them with open arms, and I don’t think I truly appreciated until this moment just how incredible the family, the life, that they built is.
It’s a life most only dream of. A life I aspire to emulate.
Over the next hour, I try to snag face time with Callie. But man is it tough.
At every turn, she’s talking to one of my family members. The Agua de Valencia—it’s basically the baby of a Screwdriver and a Long Island iced tea—is flowing. Tapas are being passed around by a friendly catering staff. My nieces and nephews are playing games that someone, probably Jessica, orchestrated. Music wraps around us and Mom and Pop begin to sway.
Finally. This is my moment.
I cut into Callie’s conversation with Martina and Alejandra. “Dance with me.” I extend a hand to her.
Martina covers her mouth with a giggle while Alejandra rolls her eyes.
“Smooth, Gage,” Alejandra comments.
Callie bites her bottom lip and her eyes dart between me and my sister. Why won’t she look at me? I hate that she looks hesitant, even worried.
“Cal.” My tone is firmer than a moment ago. Nerves expand in my stomach, rushing upward into my chest and throat.
She meets my gaze and I know. Instantly. Something’s off. Something happened.
Does she have cold feet? Did I push too hard? What the hell changed between last night, this morning, and now?
“Dance with me,” I repeat, a plea wrapping around my words.
Alejandra and Martina must sense something is unfolding between Callie and me because they dip out of the conversation gracefully.
I pull Callie toward the dance floor. She glances up at me, placing one arm on my shoulder.
