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His black tresses fell to his shoulders, and his inked muscles were impressive.

He played the bass guitar like a boss, was a secret pastry king, and was our secret resident nerd.

‘Deke,’ Bishop said, coming around the hood to give me a side hug.

He held a white box and handed it to me, grinning.

‘You come bearing gifts?’

‘Tis the only way, brother.’

I opened the cardboard container and peeked inside.

‘You baked?’ I asked, surprised. ‘When did you get the time?’

‘Wish I had. I picked these up along the way from an authentic pastel de nata bakery. For just two euros each you can indulge in a little taste of Portugal.’

‘Thanks, man,’ I grinned, hugging him. ‘Raff will love you forever.’

‘He already does, mate.’

From the passenger side, a woman stepped out of the car, taking her time.

Bishop gestured toward her as she came up alongside him, and he pulled her into his arms. ‘This is Teagan.’

She was all golden highlights, glossy extensions, and long legs.

She adjusted oversized designer sunglasses, smoothing a pristine cream linen two-piece set.

‘Deacon,’ she said, offering a practiced, camera-ready smile that didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Lovely place you have here.’

‘Welcome,’ I said. ‘Come on through.’

I led them into the house, then back out onto the beach-facing patio.

The heat was relentless out in the open, as the aroma of roasted garlic and grilled peppers from Christine’s prep work drifted through the air.

Raff surfaced near the shallow end of the pool.

His eyes gleamed when he spotted Bishop.

‘Uncle Beau!’ he yelled, using Bishop’s middle name as he hauled himself over the tiled ledge, avoiding the ladder.

He scrambled across the hot concrete, leaving a trail of wet footprints, and launched right into Bishop.

Bishop caught him, laughing as he lifted the boy off his feet into a wet bear hug.

Raff threw his head back, shaking his dark hair to clear the moisture from his eyes.

A spray of pool water flew off him, landing on Teagan’s outfit and her leather sandals.

She flinched and pursed her mouth, eyes narrowing on my son.

I caught the micro-expression: the quick, tight clench of her jaw and the flash of irritation in her eyes.

Also, the subtle step back as she flicked the water droplets off her sleeve with two fingers.

She didn’t say a word to Raff, not even a hello; she just stared at her clothes like they’d been ruined.