fingertips to her temples, as if she were channeling a stressful memory. “When they asked about your availability to come with us on the cruise, poking for info about your commercial real estate business and our long-term plans, I froze.”
Shit, he had, too.
Mostly because the idea of spending more time with the Vances, even prickly Robin, held unbelievable appeal. Even if that time didn’t involve the bonus of a Mediterranean cruise.
International travel, any travel, had always been his sister’s dream, not necessarily his. Anamaría had curtailed those aspirations after their dad’s heart attack the summer after her high school graduation, staying home instead of jetting off to conquer the world alongside her boyfriend like they’d planned. Alejandro had gone off and made a name for himself as a photojournalist. Anamaría had stepped in to help care for their papi while he convalesced. Then she eventually joined the family business, becoming a firefighter paramedic like the rest of them.
Since then, her travel consisted of a few meet ups with her training clients at their various races across the United States.
As for him, sure, he wouldn’t mind seeing a little more of the world, but he was also fine sticking close to home on his island. Enjoying game nights like they’d done the past few evenings here. Taking the Fired Up out on the water. Spending quality time together, whether that meant doing the mundane or the adventurous, like convincing Sara to tandem bungee-jump with him.
If, somehow, come Friday, they decided to keep taking it one day at a time with each other.
“I think we did okay throwing them off course,” he told Sara. He hoped so anyway. With Charles and Robin, both discerning in a manner different from the others, it was difficult for Luis to get a true read. “It was easy to redirect the question and get your mom talking about the cruise options she’s researched.”
“That was a good move.” Sara tugged her ponytail tighter as she nodded.
Luis slid his running pouch onto his arm, secured the Velcro strap around his biceps, then stuck his cell phone, ID, and some cash inside the pocket. “You ready? It’s almost eight thirty. That sun’s going to start getting brutal.”
“Let’s go.” Sara spun on her red and white sneakers and headed for the door.
As they neared the bottom of the staircase, voices drifted to them from the back of the house.
“Oh! I forgot.” Sara paused by the hutch in the foyer. “My mom hired a yoga instructor for a private class here today and Thursday. She invited us to join if you’d rather do that instead.”
“God, no!” He shuddered, imagining himself twisted like a pretzel and pretending to enjoy it for Sara and her mother’s sake. “Anamaría would kill me, after torturing me first, if she found out I took a yoga class from someone other than her. She’s been nagging me to try her sunrise yoga-on-the-beach class for ages. I usually tell her I’ll wave as I run by.”
Sara chuckled and moved down the hallway passed the framed tropical prints. “Let me go tell my mom we’ll take a pass on the yoga.”
“I’ll come say good morning.”
Luis followed Sara into the kitchen where they found the large pass-through window to the outside patio dining area opened. Out back, the morning sun bathed the dewy foliage in its swath of light and glinted off the pool’s surface.
He spotted Ruth standing near the steps leading to the oasis pool area. She was talking to someone he couldn’t see, gesturing toward the back lawn area, near the waterfall. Still recovering from the ravages of chemo, her skinny frame looked even tinier in black leggings and a slim-fitting tank. The results of her double mastectomy and decision to forgo reconstructive surgery were evidenced by her tank’s fit. Something she adamantly refused to let define her.
They’re battle scars from a war I intend to keep winning!
This proclamation had been given while the two of them were seated on the patio late yesterday, enjoying a post-dinner drink. His, beer. Hers, another putrid purple vitamin-and-mineral-infused smoothie.
“Oh, hi, honey! Are you two joining us?” Ruth waved for them to come outside.
“We’re going to stick with a run,” Sara answered.
Ruth’s expectant smile faltered, and Luis felt like a first-class heel for disappointing her.
“I’m worse than a yoga novice and would hate to slow down your private class,” he told her.
“Nonsense, it’ll be fine. Here, come tell them, dear.” Ruth motioned to the person she’d been speaking with, probably the private