Page 103 of Harper

She chuckles. “He loves spinning a pretty girl around the floor.”

“Hey! Did I tell you that my cousin, Beto, and I were selected for The Astonishing Race: Alaska?” Isabella asks Harper. “They’re filming it up here this summer.”

“Wait. What?” asks Hunter, leaning forward, his blue eyes searing. “You’re coming to Alaska this summer?”

“That’s the plan. The show’s a knock-off of The Amazing Race, I guess. My cousin—the one who worked for a crabbing boat last summer?—was approached to audition, and when they selected him as a contestant, they asked if he had a family member who’d be willing to team up with him.” She shrugs. “Since I teach, I have summers off, so…”

“So you’ll be in Alaska this summer,” says Hunter.

“Yep,” she confirms. “The race starts in Ketchikan the second week in June and then heads north. We thought it might be fun to drive up from Seattle through British Columbia, then take a ferry from Prince Rupert to Ketchikan. We could leave our car in Ketchikan during filming and drive back home when we’re done.”

Hunter’s trying to look casual about this news, but he’s failing miserably. “Long drive to and from Ketchikan.”

Isabella shrugs. “About twenty-four hours. We’ll split the drive into a few days. It’s supposed to be beautiful country.”

“And what about after the race?”

“I don’t know yet,” she says. “I’ll definitely come and visit Ken for a few days. Then? Who knows? Maybe I’ll do what she did—get a temp job in Skagway and make a little money before I go home.”

“She got a fiancé out of the deal, too,” says Hunter.

“I’m not looking for one of those,” she says, cool as a cucumber.

Hunter stares at her for a long minute, his expression boiling, then he stands abruptly. “Sawyer, let’s do shots.”

“Shots? Yeah, bro! Whoot whoot!”

The Stewart brothers head to the bar, and Isabella is left alone with us. She tracks Hunter to the bar with her eyes before turning back to us with flushed cheeks.

“Ignore him,” says Harper. “He gets moody. You’re going to have a great summer.”

“Thanks. Oh! And I meant to say ‘congratulations,’” says Isabella, her eyes flicking to Harper’s belly. “McKenna told me it’s a girl. When is she due?”

“March.”

“You feeling okay?”

“Just tired,” says Harper, resting her head on my shoulder.

“You guys seem super happy,” says Isabella.

It’s a strange observation to hear aloud, since the last five or six months of our relationship has been so full of high highs and low lows, I wouldn’t describe it as “happy.” I’ve felt everything from hope to love to hate to frustration to heat to joy and every other emotion that could fit in between. But “happy?” Happiness implies peace, in my definition, and nothing about the last few months with Harper has felt very peaceful. But I crave peace and happiness with her. I long for it.

Isabella casts a wistful gaze in Hunter’s direction, but he throws back shots at the bar with gusto, carefully oblivious to her attention.

“I’m not being a very good maid of honor,” she says, hopping up. “I should go check on McKenna. See you two later?”

“For sure.”

“We look…happy,” murmurs Harper, whose head is still on my shoulder. “Been a long time since someone said that about us.”

As the band slides into a soft and sweet version of Patsy Cline’s ballad, Crazy, I nudge her gently.

“Hey, darlin’,” I say, my voice husky with emotion. “You got the energy for a slow dance with your baby daddy?”

“I think I could manage,” she says, grinning up at me.

“It’s Christmas next week,” I say, taking her in my arms and swaying to the music.

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