Daphne appeared at my elbow, her smile genuine. “The exhaustion gets better in the second trimester,” she said in an Australian accent.
“You’ll want ginger tea,” Eberly added, bouncing little Trystan on her hip. “I lived on it for months.”
The responses seemed to satisfy them. No one asked how Kick and I had gotten together or why we’d kept the pregnancy secret for so long. No one mentioned my history with Snapper or the chaos I’d caused at last year’s Wicked Winemakers’ Ball. They just accepted the news. Like none of that mattered anymore.
I didn’t know what to do with that.
“Wait, wait.” Cristobal raised his hand from across the room. He stood beside a woman with auburn hair and kind eyes—Ainsley, I remembered. His wife. “As long as we’re sharing news…”
He looked at Ainsley. She looked back at him. An unspoken question passed between them, then her cheeks flushed pink, and she nodded.
“We’re pregnant too,” Ainsley announced. Her smile was radiant, transforming her whole face. “Due in September.”
The room erupted a second time. More tears from Lucia, who seemed incapable of containing her joy. More hugs and congratulations. Cristobal beamed as his brothers surrounded him, their teasing loud and affectionate.
“Two grandbabies in one year,” Lucia said, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue that had materialized from somewhere. “Alfonso would be so happy. He loved having a full house.”
I watched from the edge of the celebration, my hand resting on my own stomach. Two pregnancies announced in the same moment. Two families about to grow. Ainsley caught my eye across the chaos andraised her glass of water in a small toast. I raised mine back, trying to mirror her easy happiness.
She seemed nice. They all seemed nice.
That was the problem.
The men lefttwenty minutes later.
“The guys and I won’t be far if you need anything.” Kick led me over to the French doors while the women started setting up for lunch. Through the glass, I could see the gardens stretching toward a wooded area with bare branches reaching toward a gray sky.
“I don’t suppose I could come with you instead?” I said, only half teasing.
He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, and his fingers lingered at my temple. “You’re gonna be fine. More than. I promise.”
“Okay.”
He kissed me, soft and sweet, his hand cupping my cheek. “You belong here, Isabel. I know you don’t believe it yet, but you do. Just give them a chance to show you.”
When he left with his brothers and Tryst and the door closed behind them, the room felt bigger without his presence. Emptier.
Saffron appeared at my side before I could take a breath. “You doing okay?”
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
“Because you look like you’re about to bolt.” She said it without judgment, her voice low enough that only I could hear. “I recognize the look. I wore it myself not that long ago.”
“How did you stop yourself?”
“I realized that none of them are perfect either.”
She had no idea how much that resonated with me. Or maybe she did.
“They don’t expect you to be anything other than who you are. That’s the weird part. They actually mean it.” When she touched my arm, it grounded me. Even if only for that moment.
I surveyed the room, wanting so much to believe her.
But twenty-seven years of learning the opposite was hard to unlearn in an afternoon.
Lucia had takencharge of the food.
Platters covered the tasting bar—finger sandwiches with the crusts cut off, salads bright with winter vegetables, and fresh bread that smelled like it had just come from the oven. Pitchers of lemonade and sparklingwater sat alongside carafes of coffee. The children had been corralled into a corner with toys and snacks, supervised by a teenage girl Eberly introduced as a neighbor’s daughter.
