My ears ring with this confession, and I focus intently on the dessert arrangement as I casually ask, “What do you mean?”
“It’s the same look he had eight years ago when you showed up at that baseball game.”
My head snaps up. “What are you talking about?”
Austin grins. “Come on, sis. The guy was checking you out until he made that crack about reporters being vultures and you insulted his father. Then it all went downhill from there.”
“That’s—” I struggle to find words. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it? Because, from where I’m standing, you twofighting your attraction for eight years and then drunkenly getting married in Vegas seems about right.”
I throw a napkin at him. “I’m revoking your invitation to all future dinner parties.”
His laugh is warm and familiar, reminding me of surf sessions and late-night conversations on the beach after Mom died. Our older brother Garrett was away at college, trying to hold it together from a distance, but Austin and I were the ones still at home, actually talking about her and trying to pretend we were fine. We were just kids, but grief made us teammates in a way even baseball never could.
“By the way, when are we getting in the water? Your husband mentioned you’ve been slacking on your surf time.”
I’m not sure how to digest all of this information, so I just roll my eyes.
“She would have liked him,” Austin says quietly.
“You think?” I ask, surprised by how much I want the answer to be yes.
“Yeah. He doesn’t let you get away with your bullshit, but he clearly respects you.” Austin’s smile turns melancholy. “That’s all she ever wanted for us, to find people who could see past our sharp edges to what’s underneath.”
I swallow against the unexpected tightness in my throat. “Next Sunday,” I say. “Zuma Beach, six o’clock. Bring your A-game.”
“Always do.” He hesitates. “Mom would be proud of you, Jess. The stories you chase, the podcast, your fierce drive for the truth, all of it.”
“She’d be proud of you, too,” I manage, grateful when Blair appears in the doorway.
“Dessert emergency out here,” she announces. “Brandon’s threatening to tell the story about Stella’s first Hollywood party.”
The rest of the evening flows with surprising ease. Brandon does share the Stella story (involving a well-known director, a misunderstanding about sushi, and an unfortunate allergic reaction), but only after she tells them about his mishap on the set of a superhero movie.
Alex regales everyone with tales of Lucas’s secret Disneyland obsession, complete with photographic evidence of him wearing Mickey ears, which earns him a death glare from my “husband” that would terrify anyone who didn’t know him well.
“I think that’s going in the documentary for sure,” Dylan’s assistant announces from behind her camera, and Lucas groans.
“If they include that, I’m adding the footage of Jess singing karaoke at the Wonderland holiday party last year,” he threatens.
“You wouldn’t dare,” I gasp. “I was doing my Stevie Nicks impression. It was art.”
“It was something,” Grant deadpans, and everyone erupts in laughter.
I catch Lucas’s eye from across the room, and he gives me a wink that sends an unwelcome warmth through my chest. For a moment, I forget this is all pretend. For a moment, it feels like we’re just a couple hosting friends, sharing inside jokes, and building memories.
It’s dangerously close to perfect.
Hours later, after the last guests have left and thedocumentary crew has finally packed up their equipment, Lucas and I stand side by side in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher in comfortable silence.
“That went well,” he says, handing me a wine glass.
His fingers brush mine as I take it, and a little jolt shoots up my arm. I tell myself it’s nothing. Static electricity. Kitchen humidity. Definitely not the warmth of his skin or how close he’s standing.
“Surprisingly well,” I say, trying to focus on loading plates instead of the stupid flutter in my stomach. “Alex is hilarious.”
“Your friend Brandon is a menace,” Lucas replies, but there’s a smile tugging at his mouth. “I can’t believe he did that impression of me at the press conference.”
