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Despite the awkward circumstances, Julia’s heart was full. Alex was her ride-or-die. She’d doubted it for a beat, but offering to bury a tranquilized Carson was her version of sweet.

“My sister’s nicer than me.” Alex pointed her fork at Carson. “Why were you such an asshole to her? This better be good because I hold grudges, and I refuse to pretend to like you.”

“I can attest to that,” Bo said. “She didn’t like me at first.”

Alex returned her attention to Carson. “Spill.”

Julia couldn’t wait for this.

“I…” He cleared his throat.

Was Carson Fucking Miller nervous?

“I don’t have a good reason,” he said. “But maybe an explanation? See, my mom’s a sports agent, and she put pressure on me to be the next A-Rod. When she failed to land Chase Whitaker—”

“The center fielder for the Orioles?” Bo asked.

“That’s right.”

He whistled. “That had to hurt.”

Ugh, boys. Julia exchanged a look with Alex, who shrugged.

Bo explained, “He was the American League’s Rookie of the Year, and the center-fielder Gold Glove. It’s really hard to get both. He’s got one of the best batting averages in the league and has a ton of merch and endorsement deals.”

She had no idea what a rando baseball player had to do with Carson being an ass.

But she’d keep listening.

“That’s right,” Carson nodded. “Other agents said she’d lost out on Whitaker, because she got distracted by being a mom.

So she quit and started her own agency. Once I showed promise, I think she saw me as validation.

Like, she could be a mom and a talent developer.

I wanted to be the best, for her. But the pressure got to me.

I took it out on easy targets. It didn’t help that my ego was the size of Dodgers Stadium. I was an asshole.”

Julia felt itchy in her skin. “I was an easy target?”

“Not because of anything about you personally.” He touched her shoulder. “You were paid to be around me. So you’d…take it.”

“The fuck she would,” Alex said.

“No, I did.” Julia pressed her fingers to her forehead. “But this makes an awful kind of sense. You got moody when baseball started. And the kinesiology tape—you strained your rotator cuff during spring training. I said you should take a break from baseball.”

Unless Carson was a fabulous actor, he looked genuinely sheepish. “And I snapped at you. Which you didn’t deserve, of course. But I was hurting.”

She would not listen to the inner voice that wanted to pat his hand.

“All that’s tragic,” Alex said. “And somewhere in there you said you were an asshole, but I’m not hearing an apology.”

Julia tried to fight her smile but…nope. She couldn’t. Alex rarely acted as a protective older sister, and this exchange was the verbal equivalent of wrapping Julia in a cozy serape. But Carson had actually apologized to her directly.

“He apologized, Alex. Multiple times. On different continents.”

“Good—you deserved that. But I want one from him, too, because I talked you off ledges and coached you through anxiety attacks.”

Julia shot daggers at Alex with her eyes. For fuck’s sake, let her keep some dignity. He did not need to know about those. “I haven’t had one in years.”

“Oh, Jesus.” Carson clutched his glass. “Anxiety attacks? Alex, I’m sorry, but Julia, I’m really sorry. Do you want me to go?”

No. No part of her wanted him to leave, which was something she’d unpack later.

She tilted her head, considering him.

Everything he’d said rang true, but most of it sounded rehearsed.

A prepared apology. Which was nice in a way—he’d been worried enough about it that he’d practiced.

Her anxiety attacks upset him, though. Like he finally got that yeah, it was ten years ago, but it was intense.

Completely survivable, but helped shape her and how she approached the world.

“If we’re voting, I’d like you to stay.” Bo scooped up stew. “Otherwise we’ll have leftovers.”

“There’s only one vote that matters,” Alex said, staring at her.

Julia sipped her sangria. “I vote stay, on the condition you tell us why you changed. Because you seem like you’re finally aware other people have feelings and you shouldn’t stomp on them. But if you say you just…matured, I call bullshit.”

“That’s fair.” He rotated his glass on its base. “It was a car accident after graduation. August. I lost it on Mulholland Drive on the way to a party and rolled my car.”

“That road is the worst ,” Alex said.

Julia leaned back in her seat. “Was everyone okay?”

She’d heard he’d been in an accident. But she never asked for Carson Miller lore lest her interest trigger a fresh wave of Sad Puppy snickering. Without details, she’d assumed it was just a fender bender, not a life-altering, personality-shifting wreck.

“Mostly. The airbags did their thing, so my friends—do you remember Caleb and Jonas, from the team?—they walked away with scratches. My cousin Danny, too. But I broke my throwing hand and wrist to powder. Goodbye playing for Cal State, and goodbye MLB.”

That was what caused the faint scars wrapping around his wrist. She’d seen them—and the ones on his shoulder—at the pool house but didn’t want to pry.

“RIP my car insurance rates, too,” he continued. “Caleb and Jonas sued me for more than my liability cap. My aunt repped me pro bono, ’cause I had no money. Luckily, the jury didn’t award anything beyond what the insurance paid.”

“Jesus, Carson, I’m sorry to hear that.” Julia fiddled with her fork. She’d wished for Carson’s comeuppance countless times, but not by having a dream ripped away.

“It’s all good. The accident made me a better human. And you were right, you know.”

She fumbled the fork. “About?”

“My friends were fake. After the accident, baseball was out the window and my life was surgery, physical therapy, and lawsuits. No one stuck around.”

“I’m sorry.” Her heart squeezed. She normally loved being right, but not like this.

“Don’t be. Clearing them out made room for what’s good for me. Life’s been a genuine blast since then. A lot of hard work, but I wouldn’t trade it.”

The two of them locked gazes. How had she not noticed the change in his eyes? She’d been so distracted by the bigger, broader, thicker changes in his body, she’d missed the new-to-her softness in his green gaze.

“Fine,” Alex dramatically cut in, “you can stay. How’s the wedding planning? Has Mom made you want to jump out a window?”

As Julia said, “Yes,” Carson said, “No.”

“No?” Julia laughed. “She wants a wedding on the beach during the rainy season. Nothing is done besides selecting the venue for the reception. She keeps saying ‘It’ll work out,’ but it’s my job—”

“Our job,” Carson interrupted.

“To make that happen,” Julia continued without missing a beat. “She wants miracles, but we’re mere mortals.”

“Fortunately,” Carson said, “mortals can work miracles. They’re called saints.”

“You’re no saint.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Agreed.”

Alex pointed at her sister. “Don’t do the thing you always do and bend over backward to accommodate her. Set boundaries. Decline her demand for a sandcastle replica of a Maya pyramid for her wedding.”

Julia blanched. “Does she want that?”

She might be able to hire that random guy who sculpted Christ and the Ten Commandments in sand every night near the tourist areas. If she could just…

“That was a fictional example.” Alex thumped her sangria on the table. “You immediately started figuring out how you could make that happen, didn’t you?”

“No,” she lied.

“Liar.” Alex jabbed the table with her index finger. “The sooner you set boundaries, the happier you’ll be. The best thing I ever did for myself was realize I wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea. It’s okay if people—including Mom—don’t enjoy me. I found people who did.”

“Maybe I found you ,” Bo said.

“Please, who’s the adventurer here?” Alex squeezed his hand again. “Maybe we found each other.”

Barf. If she didn’t interrupt, they might start making out.

“That’s easy for you to say. Dad’s friends are rooting for you, you’ve been besties with Mariele since you were eight, and now you’ve got Bo. I’ve got surface friends but no deep ones. I’m not risking my relationship with the only parent I have left.”

Instant regret.

She’d spilled her biggest insecurity in front of the very man who used to catch these factoids and hurl them back at her like emotional dodgeball.

In high school, she’d trained herself to be on guard around Carson.

Since then, she’d avoided him, his friends, social media, and had successfully created a Carson Miller–free zone.

Her walls went up in smoke, though, after two days of sleep deficit, a wonky eating schedule, and a minor existential crisis about her family.

Please let her instincts be right and he’d actually changed.

With concern etching Alex’s face, she said, “You can tell Mom no, Jules.”

Julia’s appetite shriveled. “Can we stop talking about this?”

“Absolutely,” Carson said. “Bo, this is outstanding. Are you a chef?”

Thank God he’d shifted the conversation.

“Nope.” Bo nested Alex’s empty bowl into his. “I’m an algorithm developer. I like it as a hobby, but coding’s my passion.”

Their conversation swirled around Julia.

She kept her mouth shut to prevent yet another round of Here’s what Julia should do , which was her sister and mother’s favorite game.

They were experts in offering guidance she didn’t want, and the fucked thing was when she was actually at an emotional crossroads and came to them for advice, they shrugged.

For Alex, that made a certain kind of sense.

Her gut was her compass, and she loved quoting Dad— There’s no point borrowing trouble from tomorrow.

Unlike Mom, who enjoyed teasing out all the different possible scenarios.

Which actually made Julia more like her mother than her father, and that was not a thing she was prepared to ponder right now.

“Who’s ready for dessert?” Alex asked.

“I’ll help clear.” Julia scooted back from the table.

She’d learned this trick ages ago. When she needed a moment to herself, she’d volunteer for a chore. No one questioned it, she got brownie points for being helpful, and she could catch her breath in private. Win-win-win.

“Nah, stay.” Carson collected her bowl. “I’ve got it.”

Dammit.

“Thanks,” she said through tight lips.

Alex and Carson disappeared with the dishes, leaving her with Bo. The best way to preempt awkward silence and deflect more tunneling into her life was to ask him a personal question.

“Tell me about the necklace.” She plucked an apple chunk from her empty sangria. “Why does it replace an engagement ring?”

Bo topped her off from the pitcher on the table. “It’s a family heirloom. It goes to the eldest son to give to his forever person.”

Julia sipped her drink. “Alex has worn it for months.”

“I gave it to her after we’d known each other for a week.” He adjusted his glasses. “Even if she wasn’t there yet, I knew.”

“Whoa, are you sure?” She swirled her glass. “I love my sister. She’ll keep your secrets and bury the bodies. But she’s also…a lot.”

He lifted a shoulder. “She felt like home. From day one, I was myself around her. By day three, couldn’t imagine life without her. By day six, I was brave enough to tell her that.”

“Marriage is such a big step, though.” Julia clapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. This is completely inappropriate on the day you’ve announced your engagement.”

“It’s fine.” Bo laughed. “You two are actually a lot alike that way. If you’re worried I’m a gold digger, Alex proposed to me.

The last time I got the monthly stamp on my passport, the immigration office said I had to provide further documentation at six months to explain the long-term stay.

There are more fees, too. Alex decided that was ridiculous since we’ll be together forever, so we should get married. ”

“Man, she hates paperwork.”

He laughed. “She does indeed.”

“Dessert time!” Alex sang in her off-key voice as she and Carson plopped plates onto the table. The dishes contained deep orange squares topped with marshmallow-fluff dollops.

Happiness burbled inside of Julia.

“I haven’t had sweet potato pone in years .” Her appetite roared back as she eagerly spooned up the creamy dessert. Cinnamon, ginger, and the caramelized–brown sugar crust took her back to her childhood Christmases.

Alex smiled. “I found Dad’s recipe. Bo baked it.”

“It’s…odd.” Bo tapped his spoon against his chin. “It’s like a dense flan sweet-potato casserole. Is it okay?”

She went back for more. “It’s perfect. The best I’ve ever had.”

“You’re a dessert weirdo.” Alex pointed her spoon at Julia as she said to Carson, “She doesn’t like cake.”

“Who doesn’t like cake?” he said.

“Me.” Julia shrugged. “Never have.”

“She always insisted on this goop or rice pudding for her birthday dessert. The two worst desserts on any menu.”

“Only if you have an uneducated palate.”

“I’ve missed your highbrow insults.” Alex surveyed the table. “Want another sangria to wash away the weird taste, Carson?”

“Nah, better not. I’ll be driving back soon.”

Julia laid her spoon on the table. “Let me grab my bags first.”

“Wh— Oh, hell.” Alex winced. “Oh, Jules, I’m sorry, but we don’t have room.”

Julia fought to keep the crushed feelings from showing on her face. “Why? When I come to Belize, I always stay here.”

“Since everything’s happening across town, I figured you’d stay there. Mariele’s friend—Santi—is in town for the music festival. They couldn’t get a decent rate on a room, so I said they could stay here months ago. We owe Mariele a huge favor. I can’t kick them out.”

“I get that.” Plans shouldn’t be upended because their whimsical mother decided Hey, let’s get married this weekend in another country . “I can sleep on the couch.”

Julia gestured toward the wicker love seat that looked less comfortable than sleeping on a pile of rocks. Surely Alex could meet her in the middle on this.

“Jules, stay at the hotel. To survive this week you need sleep, and it won’t happen here. Not with me getting up before dawn for my tour groups and Santi coming in from the festival at all hours. They’ll be gone in two or three days—you can have the room then.”

The spare room.

Not her room. Not anymore.

Her big sister wasn’t letting her stay in their childhood home. Cool. That didn’t feel like doors slamming shut on her soul or anything.

She wouldn’t show it, though. No, her customer-service smile took over, the one she deployed when guests asked for something outrageous, like if she could deliver a pedicure chair to their suite for girls’-night-out prep.

“No problem,” she lied.