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As for Bianca…

Alessandra was working hard at drawing her into conversation. At first, it didn’t work. Then Alessandra told a joke, a god-awful joke, and after they all groaned, Bianca told it again, but with an ironic twist that actually made it funny.

Interesting.

The lady had a sense of humor. Wry, but that was fine with him. He’d never laughed at slip-on-the-banana peel jokes and, it seemed, neither did she.

And she had a brain. Well, he’d already figured that out, but once you got her off that high horse she rode, she could make interesting conversation.

So many of the women he met didn’t, unless you thought discussing the lives of pop stars in endless, boring, unbelievable detail was interesting.

Bianca had real interests, and a real life.

She didn’t bring up any of that. Her sister did. Alessandra got her to admit that she was writing her PhD dissertation.

“What’s it called again?”

“Alessandra. Nobody wants to hear—”

“I do,” Chay said. “What’s the title?”

Bianca sighed. “Interpersonal Bonding Among Millennials in the Age of the Internet.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Tanner raised his bottle of ale. “I’ll drink to that.”

Everyone laughed, even Bianca. “What can I tell you? I wanted to research something current.”

“And she has a fancy job,” Alessandra said proudly, “as a clinical psychologist at this mega-upscale private practice. East Side Associates,” she added, rolling her eyes.

“Alessandra,” Bianca said in a low voice, “really—”

“Where you help millennials form interpersonal relationships.”

Bianca gave Chay a cool look.

“Actually, that’s not at all what I do.”

“No?”

“No. I help people with serious problems.”

“Ah.” Chay grinned. “Meaning, people in interpersonal relationships don’t have real problems?”

Was he laughing at her or just laughing at life? Because he was right, even if she had no intention of telling him so. The people she’d studied for her dissertation were lightweights compared with the real people she now dealt with day to day.

“Meaning,” she said, “I don’t talk about my p

atients.” She said it more harshly than she’d intended, but she had the feeling she knew where Alessandra was taking this. “Professional ethics,” she added quickly, hoping she was wrong about her sister.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t.

“It’s true,” Alessandra said. “She never does—but I wish she’d talk about the one who called her when we were in Texas.”

“Yeah,” Tanner said. “I’m glad he never called you ag—What?” he said, when his wife dug her elbow into his ribs. “Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Alessandra told me what happened.”

Bianca glared at Alessandra, who tried to look contrite—and failed.

“I’m sorry,” Alessandra said. “And I didn’t mention the call to anyone else.” She looked at her husband. “When you love someone so much that it feels as if you’re a part of him and he’s a part of you…” She shook her head. “I was upset. And when I’m upset, I turn to Tanner.”