Page 62 of On the Beat

I eye Isla’s parents instead, trying to understand how she grew up. She has a fear of drowning, from seeing her brother almost drown, that much I know. But what else is there that she carries from her childhood? Her parents are both doctors, so presumably, they would be busy people without much time for their children or each other. But looking at them across the table from us, holding hands and chatting like no time has passed since they first met, I don’t get that vibe from them. Instead, they seem like… they seem like they’re kids in love.

Isla’s father, Cesar, scoops fruit onto his wife’s plate. She smiles and kisses him on the cheek. He tells an inside joke just for the two of them, and both of them laugh like it’s the first time he’s told it, though Isla’s eye-roll suggests otherwise. Isla’s foot makes contact with mine under the table, and she leans over, resting her chin on my shoulder. Her hair tickles my jaw, the smell of oranges and gardenias wafting towards me.

She cups a hand over her mouth and whispers, “Areyourparents this gross, too?”

I laugh. If bygrossshe means sickeningly in love and sweetly obsessed with each other, then… “Yes. Pretty much. My mom gave up an art career for my dad, to stay in their little town and raise me and Poppy and River, but she never regretted it.”

“That’s sweet.” Isla takes a sip of her drink. “How’d they get together?”

“High school sweethearts. She was the artsy theatre kid and he was the star quarterback,” I say, recounting the classic tale like something out of a movie. It is, really, almost like some bad 2000s flick, where the geeky girl gets the guy by taking off her glasses and revealing herself as a gorgeous supermodel. “She spilled paint on him in art class, and the two of them had detention together after he ruined her canvas. The rest is history.”

Isla clasps a hand to her chest, grinning like I’ve just told her the greatest love story of all time. “Aww.”

“How did your parents meet?”

That seems to break her parents out of their bubble to hear my question, and Joy clears her throat. “We met at church. Cesar always sat in the row behind me, and during the service, he always kicked the pew. When I told my parents, they told me to ignore him, but I decided to get him back.”

“How’d you do it?” I lean forward, amused by the idea of the two adults before me as young children, pulling pigtails and kicking seats.

“She snuck into my room and put a snake in my bed.” Cesar coughs, like he’s hiding a laugh. “But the problem was, she got confused and put it into my parents’ instead.”

“No!”

“I’ll never forget the racket my mother made. To this day, she won’t look Joy in the eye whenever they have dinner.” He chuckles. “Though, that was only after she found out it was her. Before that, she thought I was the one who did it.”

“To be fair, you were always a troublemaker,” his wife teases him. “You used to do far worse to your sisters, for one. I remember you used to use their dolls as hostages for your model train tracks.”

“I’ve long since put my troublemaking ways behind me,” he says easily, a twinkle in his eyes belying his words. “I’ve passed that torch onto my sons.”

“Thankfully, Isla, you and Analyn always held your own against them.” Her mother looks fondly over at her daughter. “You never let Gabe or Isko walk over you. You always did get them back.”

I sit silently, though smiling at the image of Isla and her younger sister getting back at her brothers for pranking her. My last memory of her brothers, of course, is rather tainted by the fact that they—and the paparazzi—interrupted our second kiss. The thought of the paparazzi makes a knot twist in my stomach. I should be used to it by now. But after leaving L.A. for so long, I thought I could be free again. A normal guy. I guess I’ll never be normal. Not now.

But looking over at Isla, and as I sit with her parents, I feel like I fit in here. Like I fit in with them—withher.

Chapter 30: Isla Romero

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” Ryder asks me all too innocently, in case Paulo is still within earshot.

Paulo is getting ready to go to work at the hospital, and I hear the jingle of his car keys as he walks through the house gathering his things, leaving us with a safe space to discuss our plans. “You know exactly what we have planned.”

“Ah, yes, the surprise birthday party for Paulo at Tita Evangeline’s house.”

“I think she wants us to go there early.” I check my watch. “It’s a Sunday, so she dismissed her household staff. She’s having most of the food catered, but she wants me to help her cook one of Paulo’s favourite dishes.”

“Sounds good.”

“So, I was thinking, you could help me to help her cook?”

He stares blankly at me for a moment. His mind seems to be a thousand miles away. In Los Angeles, maybe? Or with one of his siblings?

“Hello?”

“Wait, what?” Ryder’s blue eyes narrow. “You were going to tell me something about Poppy when we were with your parents. What was it?”

Guessing that he won’t answer my question until his gets a response, I tell him.

“She’s the fashion stylist on that new music fashion talent show,Make The Cut.” My eyebrows rise when I see his expression. “Oh. That wasn’t in the letter?”

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