Page 20 of Ship Wrecked

Peter smiled at him in gratitude.

It didn’t even feel like an effort.

When Maria’s phone buzzed, all five people with hotel suites—including Peter, who stood only centimeters away—were clustered in the hall outside their rooms, chatting after what she considered an extremely successful dinner.

A candid photo of her older brother appeared on the cell’s screen, and one glance at the time told her why. Normally she called him for their weekly FaceTime chat on the hour, but she’d run late, unwilling to end the evening’s festivities. Also, possibly, slightly drunk.

He would understand. He always did.

Tapping the display, she stepped away from the group and answered the call.

“Hej,Filip,” she said, then briefly apologized and asked if they could talk later. When he agreed with his typical amiability, she ended the call and turned to rejoin the crew.

Only to come within a millimeter of bumping into Peter, who was, for some reason,right there. To her shame, she emitted a shrill little squeak of surprise.

His lips twitched once before returning to their customary severe line. “Who was that?”

“Filip, my older brother.” Not that it was any of his business, especially when he asked in such a gruff way. “I’m late for our weekly chat.”

“Oh.” Peter seemed to—deflate somehow. Or at least become less loom-y. “He doesn’t... uh... never mind.”

And now he was back to looking ill at ease, poor thing.

She took pity on him. “He doesn’t look like me. I know. We’re both adopted, and so is my sister.”

Filip from an orphanage in South Korea, Astrid as a Swedish newborn, Maria following the death of her Swedish birth parents and several failed attempts at finding her a permanent home. Her other older brother, Vincent, was Stina and Olle Ivarsson’s biological child, but her adoptive parents had never treated him any differently from Maria or Filip or Astrid.

Her family was everything to her.Everything.

That was true in Stockholm, and it was just as true in LA or Ireland. Her siblings and her parents were the foundations upon which she’d built her life, as solid and immovable as the granite boulders that studded the landscape around Stockholm, and she missed them all terribly.

Over the past several weeks, though, she’d begun to think that she might be able to create a sort of family for herself here on the island too, and she didn’t want to leave anyone out. Not even Peter.Especiallynot Peter, a man who already seemed far too accustomed to being an outsider.

“Oh,” he said again. “I didn’t realize.”

Of course he hadn’t realized. The night they’d met in LA, she’d been unwilling to share personal information, and since then, he’d mostly been avoiding her. Although he seemed to be getting over that now, and she had high hopes for their future as scene partners and—maybe even friends?

Ja, she’d definitely had more than her share of wine with dinner, because she heard herself declaring in a too-loud voice to everyone in the hall, “I feel really lucky to have such a talented castmate and such an amazing crew on the island. I’m so glad you’re my colleagues.”

“Youshouldfeel lucky.” Nava raised her chin high in feigned hauteur, even as her cheeks creased in a smile. “We’re fucking incredible.”

“So we are.” Ramón laughed. “And if you’d hated us all, it would have been pretty damn awkward.”

“But you’d still be stuck with us,” Peter noted with his usual cynicism. “So, yes, count your blessings.”

“Nope,” Maria cheerfully told him. “That’s not true.”

Now she was really feeling that final glass of wine, so she edged around Nava and drifted toward her suite. When she stumbled, a strong hand grasped her elbow and kept her upright.

Peter, inevitably. Of course it was Peter.

Tall, strong, sexy Peter.Fy fan, he smelled good.

Face creased in confusion, he steadied her all the way to her door. “What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean?” Giggling, she patted him on the chest, then dug her key out of her dress pocket. “You need to be more specific, Peter.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, probably in an effort to muster his patience.

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