“You okay?” Chris asks, voice low.
“Fine. Just observing.”
His jaw tightens as he takes in Vicente standing three feet away, but he keeps his expression neutral. Professional.
Wyatt catches Ben’s eye across the courtyard and lifts his chin in a subtle summons. Ben nudges Baz, and the twins extricate themselves from where they’d been hovering awkwardly between their mother and Toni—clearly grateful for the excuse.
“We should take that meeting,” Wyatt says to Vicente and Arturo, voice pitched for only our small group. “While everyone’s distracted.”
Vicente’s gaze flicks to Chris, assessing and curious, before he nods. “Arturo’s office. This way.”
“You okay if we—” Chris starts.
“Go,” I say. “I’ll be fine.”
He hesitates, his jaw working like he wants to say more. Then his hand brushes mine—brief, almost accidental—before he and Wyatt head inside with the twins. Vicente and Arturo follow a moment later, Arturo’s hand at the small of Vicente’s back as they slip away from the gathering.
They disappear into the house, Vicente and Arturo leading the way. They haven’t told me what this meeting is about—need-to-know basis, operational security, all the phrases that mean you’re not cleared for this. I’m here as Vicente and Arturo’s therapist, not as an intelligence asset. The distinction matters to them, even if the lines feel increasingly blurred to me.
And here I am, surrounded by my clients’ entire extended family, pretending this is just Thanksgiving dinner.
Celeste sees me and tugs me toward the south wing. “Come, let me show you Papá’s gallery. It’s his pride and joy.” I gratefully let her take my hand and lead me through the garden, down a set of steps and into a climate controlled, hermetically sealed, but vast and well-lit art gallery that rivals most museums. It’s the perfect distraction from the chaos.
39
Nina
Chris finds me half an hour later, Wyatt a half-step behind. I’m back by the fountain, a fresh glass of sparkling water in hand. They move through the courtyard like they’re clearing a room—Chris’s gaze sweeping the perimeter before it lands on me, Wyatt tracking exits even as he smiles.
“Hey.” Chris’s hand finds the small of my back, proprietary in a way he hasn’t been in public before. “Sorry we disappeared on you. I’m done with meetings for the night—I’m all yours.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” I lean into his touch slightly. “How was the briefing?”
“Handled.” He doesn’t elaborate. His eyes cut toward Vicente, who’s deep in conversation with Drake near the bar, then away. “You need to sit?”
“I’m okay.”
Wyatt appears at my other side with a glass of sparkling water and a plate of empanadas. “Thought you might be hungry. You barely touched the ceviche.”
“You were watching me eat from Arturo’s office?”
“I was watching you before.” He says it simply, like it’s obvious. Like it’s his job. “You’re six days post-op and running on fumes.”
Between them, I feel bracketed. Protected. It should feel suffocating with two large men flanking me like bodyguards, but instead it feels like exhaling. Like I can stop holding it all together for a moment.
Chris’s hand hasn’t left my back. His thumb traces a small circle against my spine, almost unconscious, but his attention is elsewhere, tracking Vicente’s position, noting who he’s talking to, cataloging every movement.
I take the glass from Wyatt, sip. “Celeste showed me her father’s art collection. It’s even more impressive than he lets on.”
A shadow crosses Chris’s face. “Did she show you all of it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe?” I think back to the gallery, the locked rooms Celeste mentioned. “There were some pieces she said weren’t ready for display yet.”
Chris takes a long pull of his beer but doesn’t respond.
The silence feels pointed, but I can’t find the shape of it. I go back to the appetizer plate, filing it away with all the other things Chris knows that I don’t.
Marco and Sadie arrive as the sun is turning the courtyard gold, apologizing about traffic from Malibu. Sadie looks different than I remember from the wedding: shorter hair, new ink climbing her neck. But her energy is the same. Fierce. Unapologetic.
