Page 67
“Lunch?” she asks, tilting her head.
“Lunch,” I concede, closing my laptop with more force than necessary. “But for the record, the rules—”
“Are currently sitting at the bottom of the pool,” she finishes, standing up and smoothing out her linen shorts. “Come on, we’ll figure it out later. Your brother is probably wondering if we’ve succumbed to a spreadsheet-induced coma.”
I follow her, enjoying the way her curves fill out those shorts, and the way her hips sway in an intoxicating rhythm.
The transition from the air-conditioned house to the terrace is a sensory assault. The smell of grilled chicken and rosemary drifts from the outdoor kitchen. Aaron is standing beside Kiersten as she works the grill with practiced ease. He looks calm for someone whose children are currently trying to drown each other in three feet of water. Kiersten says something that makes him laugh, a bright sound I haven’t heard nearly enough in the past five years.
Maya is sprawled on a lounge chair, her face buried in her phone, occasionally looking up to roll her eyes at her younger brothers. Mom has tucked herself into the shade on the other end of the pool, her face hidden under the brim of her enormous sun hat.
“The hermits emerge.” Kiersten notices us first as she carries a tray of roasted vegetables over to the table. There’s a twinkle in her eye, and her ever-present smile grows mischievous.
Maybe she does know more than I thought. I wonder if she’s said anything to Aaron.
“Isabella,” Aaron says as he wanders over, hands in the pockets of his chinos. “Please tell me you’ve managed to talk some sense into my brother. I’m afraid he’s forgotten what sunlight looks like.”
“I’m trying,” Isabella says and sighs dramatically.
“Uncle Seb! Look!” Leo, the seven-year-old, launches himself into the water in a chaotic cannonball that ends with an enormous splash. I give him a nod. My nephews have learned not to expect much more than that from me.
I watch Isabella out of the corner of my eye. This is the part that should feel awkward: she’s not supposed to be here with my family. I had fully intended to keep these two worlds entirely separate.
Except nothing about this seems awkward. Isabella wanders over to the table to look at the food, commenting on what an incredible spread Kiersten’s put together while Aaron makes good-natured jokes that have them both giggling.
With a start, I realize Isabella fits, not as a guest, but as a missing piece of our family's architecture.
Despite the work waiting for us, the food, the sun, and the distant sound of waves lull us into a place where time doesn’t exist and our company isn't in peril. We talk and laugh, and Isabella even gets Maya to join the conversation a few times. Kiersten and Aaron continue to joke around while Isabella carries on conversations with my nephews about water balloons and the best ways to launch them. Mom doesn't say much, she never does, but she seems content enough to sit and enjoy her family.
Kiersten disappears inside, returning with homemade ice cream and fresh peaches.
Somewhere between lunch and dessert, Isabella convinces Leo to dare me into the pool. I end up in the deep end in my chinos with both boys hanging off my shoulders, and when I surface, Aaron is staring at me like he’s never seen me before. Maybe he hasn’t.
As I find myself watching the way the sunlight catches the gold in Isabella’s hair, Aaron leans in as he clears the plates.
“Careful, Seb,” he says quietly. “You’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
“The look of a man who’s realized he’s in way over his head and is secretly enjoying drowning.”
I scowl at him, but he just laughs and heads back to the house with a stack of dishes.
Isabella and I return to work as everyone else heads inside to escape the afternoon heat. We work until the day fades into twilight. Kiersten serves a simple salad for dinner at the fire pit at the edge of the property. The boys are chasing fireflies, and they have somehow enticed Maya into joining them.
More fireworks fill the sky as the fire crackles, throwing long, dancing shadows across the flagstone. Isabella is sitting across from me, her legs tucked under her, wrapped in one of my oversized college sweatshirts. She and Kiersten talk quietly as they sip wine and stare into the flames.
I feel a pull in my chest, a physical, magnetic tug toward her that defies every defense I’ve spent years building. I’m falling for her, and the realization is terrifying.
Aaron wanders over with two glasses of bourbon. He hands one to me before settling into the chair beside mine.
“She’s been kind of a godsend, hasn't she?” he says after a long silence.
“Indeed she has,” I admit, knowing that he’s talking about more than what she’s contributed to the company.
“So, what’s the problem? It’s not like you to hang back and hesitate.”
I take a long sip. “The problem is everything, Aaron. The timing. The work. The fact that our foundation is crumbling beneath our feet, and we could lose what we’ve worked so hard to build. I didn’t account for—” I search for the right word but come up short. “This.”
