“Deal.” She watches me pour, her expression a bit wistful. “Today would have been our five-year dating anniversary.”
I don’t have to ask who she means. “Has he caught up on child support?”
“Of course not. He claims he’s between jobs.”
Her ex-husband lives in a Manhattan penthouse with a trust fund big enough to outfit a small army. The fact that I haven’t killed him yet is a testament to my self-restraint. “I’m sorry.” I sit down on the stool next to hers and push a glass in front of her. “Want me to have him murdered? I know some Special Forces guys who’d do it discreetly.”
“That would be nice.” She takes a slow sip of cider and sighs. “I don’t miss him,” she says. “Not even a tiny bit. But I miss the guy I thought he was. The one who swept me off my feet in college and gushed about ‘blending our lives together’ when we got married.”
I would personally like to put Eric’s hands in a blender and hit pulse, but that’s not what my sister needs right now. “At least you got Jordan out of the deal. Not that it negates all the shit he put you through.”
“She is pretty great.” She gives me a wobbly smile and takes a sip of cider. “Tell me about your new girlfriend.”
I sigh and take a swig of my drink. “I take it you talked to Mom?”
Julia grins wider. “She said you were making out in the barnyard like teenagers.”
“Wonderful.” I’ll never live this down.
“Oh, and Mom really likes Izzy. Said she’s pretty great.”
“She is pretty great.” I refuse to comment on the making out bit. “She says it’s not going anywhere, though. That she’s going back to her home country.”
“Huh.” She looks thoughtful as she spins her glass on the counter. “You think it’s a brush-off?”
“Could be.” I don’t want to be an egotistical jerk who thinks a beautiful woman couldn’t possibly shoot him down for any reason beyond geographic incompatibility. “I’ve been crushing on her a long time.”
I’m not sure why I just admitted that, but Julia doesn’t look surprised. “She’s the one you rescued at Bree Bracelyn’s wedding?”
“I wouldn’t say rescued.” Yeah, I recognized the signs of kidney failure and did basic triage before escorting her to the hospital and sticking around for the first few hours of her care. “She’s not my patient, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“That’s not what I’m getting at, actually.” She takes another sip of cider, considering me. Then she changes the subject. “How’s Mom?”
“Weird segue.” There’s concern in Julia’s eyes though, so I let that drop. “She seems good. Have you not seen her lately or something?”
“I just saw her yesterday, but I wanted your take on it.” She shrugs. “I think she might be lonely.”
Guilt washes through me as I try to recall the last time I dropped by before today. “We had brunch a few days ago, and I went over last weekend to replace some of those lights in the foyer.” That used to be my father’s job, since Mom’s not a fan of crawling up a ladder. Bitterness trickles up my throat, and I swallow it back. “Maybe I’ll invite her to lunch. She loves that Dungeness crab risotto Sean Bracelyn makes at Ponderosa Resort.”
Julia’s smile leaves little doubt she sees right through me. “And you’ll just happen to visit Izzy while you’re there?”
“You calling me a self-serving jerk?”
She grins wider. “I’m calling you clever,” she says. “And a little evil.”
“That’s Dr. Evil to you.” I take a sip of cider, still fretting about my mother. “You think she needs someone living there? A full-time ranch hand or something?”
Julia cocks her head. “You volunteering?”
“If I have to.” Not that I’m eager to live with my mother, but if she needs me—
“Maybe she’s ready to start dating again,” Julia muses. “Someone kind and sweet and financially secure.”
I cock an eyebrow at her as I lift my glass. “Because marriage worked out so well for her the first time?”
“She got us, didn’t she?” The hopeful lilt on the last word lets me know she recognizes her words as an echo of mine just moments ago. “Seriously, though—do we know any eligible guys her age?”
I think about my patient who came in the other day for the STD screening and shake my head. “There are a lot of jerks out there. I don’t want her getting hurt again.”
Julia rolls her eyes. “You can’t cover us all in bubble wrap.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She shrugs. “It’s something I’ve been talking about with my therapist. The importance of fending for myself, sink or swim.”
I consider that a moment. “I’d never want to watch you sink.”
“I appreciate that. But sometimes it’s part of learning to swim.”
Draining the last of my cider, I throw an arm around my sister. “All right. But you can’t tell me I’m not allowed to toss you a life ring or strap water-wings on your arms or something.”
“Way to run the metaphor into the ground.” She grins and tips up her own glass. “I love you, big brother.”
“I love you, too, pipsqueak.” This time when I ruffle her hair, she doesn’t duck away. “Can I check on Jordan?”
“Yes, but if you wake her I will beat you to death with your stethoscope.”
“That’s fair.” I stand up and make a big show of tiptoeing over to the grocery bag I left on the counter. Inside is a small plush pig I found for Jordan on the baby aisle.
I’m not saying I bought it because it reminds me of Izzy, but I’m not saying I didn’t.
With another dramatic tiptoe performance—bolstered by an eye roll from my sister—I make my way to Jordan’s room and nudge open the door. My niece is fast asleep on her belly with half the covers thrown off. I bend down to tug the lightest blanket up over her back, then tuck the pig into the crook of her arm.
“Love you, Jordie girl,” I whisper.
My heart squeezes with love for this pint-sized replica of my sister. I know it’s not the dude-bro thing to admit wanting a family.
But toxic masculinity isn’t my jam, so yeah, I want a wife and kids and the whole American dream. Even if it didn’t work for my mom and sister like they hoped it would, I’m not giving up on that wish. If that makes me a hopeful sucker, so be it.
My niece stirs in her sleep, small fingers reaching out to clutch the pig’s snout. I smile and think of Izzy, not the least bit surprised I can’t get her out of my mind.
As I tiptoe from the room, I wonder how I’m going to shake this crush.
Or if I even want to.
Chapter 5
Isabella
It’s after dark when my brother walks me back to my cabin. “Lock the door behind me,” Mark says gruffly. “If anyone shows up, hit ‘em in the face with the hatchet.”