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I drop the phone so I’m not speaking directly into the receiver. “She wants to speak to you.”

“I want to talk to her, too.” She extends her hand. “Give me the phone.”

“What do you want to talk to her about?”

“You, silly. What else?”

“I don’t think Mina wants us on the phone.” It’s a feeble excuse, but it’s all I’ve got.

Mina whispers, “Let her talk to your sister.”

I’m outnumbered by women. If I’m going to be stampeded, there will be ground rules. “No sharing embarrassing stories,” I tell my sister. “Got it?”

“What am I, five? Just let me talk to her.”

This has disaster written all over it, but I hand the phone to Cristina. “Her name’s Jessie.”

She grins at me as she says, “Hey, Jessie. Nice to meet you. Oh yeah? Yeah, that’s coming up. Uh-huh.”

My heart jumps into my throat and drums a steady rhythm as I watch the entire exchange.

Cristina’s gaze flutters to me. “Is that right? No, he didn’t tell me. I’ll be sure to ask. Okay, sounds great. Here he is.”

She hands me the phone, and I clear my throat, trying to pretend like I’m not shaken to my core. “Did you find out everything you wanted?” I ask my sister.

“Not even close, but I will soon. Now, get off the phone and get back to your date. My popcorn’s getting cold.”

“You’re the one who called me,” I remind her.

“I know. Now get back to it.”

She hangs up as the carousel comes to a slow stop. Cristina’s got this cat-who-ate-the-canary look on her face. She bites her lip, trying not to grin. It’s hopeless.

“You want to tell me what y’all talked about?”

“Nope.” She expertly slides down the side of the horse, spins, and bounces on her toes, beaming up at me. “I think I’m ready for the Matterhorn.”

“You sure?”

“Yep. Let’s do it. Oh, wait.” She pulls out her phone, and I watch her face change. The light in her eyes dims. Her jaw tightens.

“Everything okay?”

She shoves the phone back in her purse. “Yep. Let’s go.”

But she’s not fine. I can see it in the set of her shoulders, the way she’s gripping that bear like a lifeline. My hand twitches to touch her back, but I stop myself. “Cristina—”

“The Matterhorn.” She forces brightness into her voice. “Let’s do this.”

“I’m following you.”

We spend the next half hour riding rides, until the sun starts to sink below the horizon. Bright colors smear the sky, and it doesn’t get much more romantic than this.

It’s time for the kiss.

“One more ride, then we’ll call it a day,” I say.

She gulps. “All right.”