“Aren’t they?” I refill our coffee cups from the carafe on the table.
“Nothing could be further from the truth,” Isla rolls her eyes at me. “There’s a whole world of possibilities in each of us.”
“Oh goody. Is this a multiverse theory of matchmaking?” I set down my cup and rub my hands together. “Because I am a huge fan of the multiverse.”
“That’s surprising given how static you seem to think people are.” Isla stirs cream into her coffee.
“Well, they are. In this universe. Doesn’t mean there’s not other versions of people in other universes.”
I’ve spent way too much time thinking about the universe where my dad was more like Dean’s.
“I don’t see it that way. I think we all contain a universe of possibilities within us at any given moment. And when our universes collide, it changes us. Everything about us. Our tastes change, our habits change, our hopes and fears change. We’re not the same people anymore. It’s like we’re all constantly changing each other’s DNA.” I catch Isla staring dreamily into space. “I totally believe the right meeting can turn the wrongest people into a perfect couple.”
“So if that’s true, can the wrong meeting destroy a perfect couple’s chances of ever getting it together?” I ask.
“Totally,” Isla shakes her head sadly, “Everyone knows that sad couples who were just perfect for one another but they met two years too early and one of them wasn’t in theright place.”
“But that’s about timing, not the meet-cute,” I argue.
“The meet-cute is timing! Pure, cosmic timing!”
“So tell me about howwemet?” I lean back in my seat. “Where does the story start? With Lupercalia or the diner?”
“I don’t know, if I was writing it, I might have to start it when you showed up homeless and bedraggled outside my hotel room,” Isla’s grin makes her eyes crinkle a bit at the corners.
“Okay then, that’s the story for our grandkids,” I say.
I’m aware that I am acting like a posturing idiot. Is it because of her campy pineapple dress and that adorable tropical fruit-trimmed sun hat? Isla even smells like a fruit cocktail. Like she’s candy. Delicious candy.
Why am I feeling so desperate to charm her?
When I first got back online this morning, for a hot second I’d thought about buying a few thousand copies of her books using separate dark web accounts. It could get her back on the bestseller lists. But considering that she wouldn’t even let me hack her phone, I don’t think she would have taken kindly to the gesture. It might even have upset her.
I just want to make her happy. I love how unwaveringly optimistic she is about matchmaking. Like it’s merely a matter of getting any two people together under the right circumstances. I could almost write a mathematical formula for it. And then spend the rest of my life trying to solve for the variables.
Was that my parents’ problem? One of their variables was off?
“Bella! You look so sweet!” Marco suddenly rushes over to kiss Isla on both cheeks. His plate is loaded with a selection of high-protein, low-carb items. No fruit. All the bacon. No wonder the serving platter was empty when I got there. Marco was hogging it all for himself. “You mind if Marco joins you?” He sits without waiting for an answer. “Marco hates to eat alone. So what are we doing today, Bella?” He takes Isla’s hand and slavers all over it.
Oh wait. That’s just my imagination. He is not actually drooling, but he looks like he might if I rubbed a little bacon on her.
Isla pulls her hand away.
“I actually thought I’d get some writing done today,” she says. “I’m running behind on my current deadline.”
“Oh! Marco would love to watch you work. What a special privilege. Should we reserve a cabana by the pool?”
“We were thinking about checking out the lazy river,” I say to Marco, shooting a quick wink at Isla.
“Oh! Marco loves the lazy river! Marco already ran six laps around the river this morning. Running against the tide is very good exercise.” He looks sideways at me, sizing me up and apparently finding my bulk lacking. “Maybe you should try it.”
“I went for a run on the beach,” I say officiously. “The sand also provides a fair amount of resistance.”
Damn it, Marco. I wish I’d come up with the idea of running in the lazy river.
“Hmmph,” Marco sniffs at me and turns back to Isla.
“You won’t even know I am there, Bella. Marco will be as quiet as a mouse. Marco will fetch you drinks –”
