“They’re your family. They love you.” He picked up her suitcase, ignoring her attempts to grab it back. “You can have wine at dinner.”

* * *

EMMALINE COULDN’T HAVE wine at dinner. No one could.

The resort restaurant—Sea of Tranquility—was beautiful, overlooking the Pacific. It also didn’t serve alcohol. Where had that been on the website, huh? Rather hateful of them, really.

It had gotten chillier. There was a picturesque fire in a glass fireplace in the middle of the room and windows on three sides. Em, Jack and her family had a corner table; she thought Jack might’ve slipped the maître d’ a twenty, but she was a little stupid with fatigue. Strangely beautiful candles, probably made out of wheatgrass and edamame, flickered, and, outside, a whip-poor-will started to sing.

Naomi and Kevin weren’t in the restaurant, thank God. Em thought she recognized one of his cousins, but no one called out a hello or stopped by the table, and she was deeply grateful. She’d see everyone tomorrow and Saturday—they’d been given a program of “Fun and Healthful Activities!” which included the mandatory water sports.

Saturday afternoon was the wedding itself.

She wondered how Kevin had felt, seeing her again. If they might have a real conversation, just the two of them, and maybe...maybe set some old feelings at rest. Maybe they could even manage to be friends again. Surely, somewhere in that beautiful sculpted body, a little bit of Old Kevin existed.

Dinner was a blurry, odd affair. Her parents were both talkers, but because they didn’t speak to each other, it was as if there were two conversations going on at the same time, except for their sharp jabs at each other from time to time. Also, the combination of jet lag and stress was the equivalent to an Ambien and a baseball to the head.

The ranch only served gluten-free, vegan food, and while it wasn’t awful, it also wasn’t identifiable or filling.

Only Angela was normal, her usual charming self, laughing, laying her hand on Jack’s arm from time to time, telling stories while Mom whispered questions to her about why Em had chosen to bring a man as her date.

“I’m straight, Mom,” Emmaline told her for the fifth or sixth time.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” she said, “but, Emmaline, you don’t have to hide your sexuality from us. I’m very open-minded, even if your father isn’t.”

“I’m open-minded,” Dad objected. “I think we all know exactly who’s homophobic here. But, Emmaline, you never have to hide who you truly are from your old dad.”

“I’m not hiding anything!” Em said. “I’m broadcasting my sexuality, okay? I like men. I’ve never kissed a woman, and I never want to.”

“Too bad,” Jack murmured, earning a scowl. He was acting way too boyfriendy for her.

“Can we talk about something else?” she asked, pushing some mysterious food that began with a Z around her plate. “Ange, what’s new in the world of the moon and stars?” She turned to Jack. “Angela’s an astrophysicist. Just finished her PhD at Stanford.”

“Emmaline, you’re so sweet to ask, but my job is so boring compared to yours!” her sister said. “Tell me how things are going in beautiful Manningsport. Have you had any interesting calls lately?”

“Oh, sure,” she said. “Um, a four-year-old got a blueberry stuck in his nose, and I helped with that...” Okay, it had been more fun than it sounded. Little Flynn Maloney had been quite thrilled with the attention and rightfully proud of the effort it had taken to wedge the berry up so high. “Well, the other day, I had to unhandcuff a guy from his bed. His wife had dropped the key in the chocolate sauce and thought she might’ve swallowed—oh, uh, never mind, actually.”

The frisky couple in question had been Prudence and Carl Vanderbeek. Jack’s sister and husband. Whoopsy.

“Sounds like something my sister and Carl would do,” he said.

“Bingo.”

He smiled.

He smiled.

Oh, he smiled.

Yep, that was some mighty good mojo. His eyes were unbelievably pretty, and that smile was balm for the battered soul. His eyes crinkled at the corners, too! Damn and blast, Jack Holland’s face was just...it was just...

“You two make a lovely couple,” Angela said.

“No! No, no. We’re just friends,” Em said, jerking her gaze away from Jack.

“We play hockey together,” Jack added. “She has the best wrist shot on the team.” He put his arm around the back of her chair, doing that boyfriendy thing again. “But she looks pretty exhausted, so if you don’t mind, we’ll get back to our rooms.”

“Of course! A well-rested body is the foundation of good mental health,” Dad said, leaping up to hug her. “You’re wonderful, sweetheart. Daddy loves you very much.”

“Love you, too, Daddy,” she said.

“And I love you just as much. If not more,” Mom added.

“Good to know. Ange? You want to chime in?”

Angela laughed. “And I love you more than these two combined, plus infinity.”

Emmaline smiled, hugged her sister and mom, and she and Jack headed back to their rooms.

“What a nice family,” he said.

Not the word she’d use, but they were hers, and she did love them. “Thanks. They liked you a lot.”

“Everyone does.” He grinned, taking away any conceit that might’ve been associated with the smile. After all, it was true. What was not to like? To love? Who wouldn’t want to rub up against him and—

“You want to hang out or something?” he asked.

“Um...I should get to bed. I mean, do you?”

He hesitated. “No. I’m pretty whipped, too.”

“In the morning, if you walk down to the beach, you might see some otters. They’re really cute.”

“I’ll keep a lookout.”

“There’s a hot yoga class at five-thirty,” she said. “It’s on our schedule of events.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” he answered, sliding his keycard into the slot. “Sleep well, Emmaline.”

She went into her room, as well. Double-locked the door. Washed up, got in her jammies and got into bed. Very comfortable. She flapped her arms and legs as if making a snow angel. Big bed. Plenty of room for Sarge. She wondered how he was doing. Shelayne, who had an unhealthy love of dogs, had him for the weekend. Em would be lucky if she got her puppy back, given how Shelayne had promised to spoil him.

Yep. Big bed. Very big. Very comfy.

Crap. She was wired. Exhausted but wired.

She closed her eyes and tried to relax. Pictured being on the ocean in a gently drifting boat. (Why was she drifting? What if she got caught on the Gulf Stream and ended up like Pi, minus the tiger? Or even worse, with the tiger?) Pictured the blue, blue ocean. (Note to self: warn Jack to check the shark report before he went swimming. Then again, the water would only be about sixty degrees. Then again, he was from the Finger Lakes. He knew cold water. And then again, maybe he wouldn’t want to go swimming because of the rescue, but she kind of did, except that she’d have to wear a wet suit, and whose ass looked good in a wet suit? Naomi’s and no one else’s, that’s whose.)