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CJ and Magnus roll their eyes.
At a stage whisper, Isla says, “It’s taken me some time to decipher their expressions, gestures, and comments, and I’m not entirely sure I have the translation right, but I think that means Ryan is entertaining a lady.”
Royal guffaws.
“Or fending one off,” Magnus adds.
“When it comes to Ryan, it always has something to do with a lady.” CJ winks.
We gather around a long, whitewashed farm-style table, topped with bowls and plates with enough food to feed a small army. A McGregor-sized army.
There is one empty place setting, presumably for Ryan, which means they knew I was coming. Hope springs inside and lands like a gymnast with her arms outstretched in triumph. Is that also part of the brotherly code Isla is learning to read? Did seeing Magnus and I together earlier mean something?
Isla tells us about all the different dishes and then Royal says the blessing.
“And y’all have to tell me what you think of every single thing you taste because this is the potential wedding dinner menu. Though I haven’t decided whether to go with the fig, blackberry, and farro salad, steak, and smashed potatoes or lemon chicken with a kale and strawberry side, local goat cheese, and conch fritters.”
“You know my vote,” Royal says.
“It’s delicious,” CJ says.
Isla has hardly touched a thing and sets down her silverware, then flaps her hands. “I can’t hold it in for another second. We’ll have to just tell Ryan when he gets here.”
“I’m here.” The missing McGregor brother slouches into a chair.
Royal claps him on the back. “You okay, man?”
Ryan takes a long glug of the water by his place setting. “It’s been a day, but don’t let me interrupt, Isla. You were saying?”
She bounces in her seat. “We’ve officially set a date for the soft opening of the Driftwood, which also means we have a wedding date.”
Royal grips her hand and squeezes. “Instead of doing a destination wedding, this is the destination. Our families and closest friends will be our first guests.”
“Guinea pigs?” Ryan asks.
“You okay to run the place and get married?” Magnus asks, ever practical.
Isla and Royal turn to face each other. “We can do anything together.”
It would be easy for someone in my position to feel like an outsider, but it’s like I’ve been sitting at the table for dinner with this family for years. I don’t feel excluded or like I’m Magnus’s flavor of the week.
Is that because he’s never brought anyone home to meet them? Is there an unspoken understanding that because they set a spot for me at the table, I’m instantly part of the crew?
I gaze up at Magnus’s brown eyes and the corner of his lip hitches toward a smile, toward making his dimple pop. I can’t help but feel as if he’s waited all his adult life for this moment, to have someone by his side. It’s been a while time since I felt like I belonged in this way.
Seated next to me, it’s hard not to notice the flash of Isla’s engagement ring—a lustrous pearl flanked by diamonds.
“It’s beautiful.”
“The pearl in the fountain was much bigger,” Isla says.
“I asked if you wanted a bigger pearl, Strawberry Shortcake,” Royal says, having overheard her comment.
“And I told you that it’s perfect. I don’t want a bigger one. If it were larger, I wouldn’t be able to lift my hand to do anything, much less paint.” She pecks him on the cheek. “I love it and I love you, Mr. McMuffin.”
CJ and Magnus exchange anEw, our brother is being romanticlook.
I just giggle and Magnus glimpses my left hand for the briefest moment. There used to be a ring there, but not for a long, long time. Long enough for me to grieve. I’ll never forget Ethan or stop loving him, but it’s different now.
