Chapter Twenty-Six

BRYAN COULDN’T HELP BUT be nervous as he showered and changed to get ready to go to Ana’s family’s home. This morning had been fun, if for no other reason than to show off a little and get in a workout, but he could tell that Ana was seeing him in a new light. Just not a different-enough light to say that she loved him.

Maybe she didn’t. He’d said it twice now, once in her apartment when he’d volunteered to come with her and once this morning, and she’d gotten uncomfortable both times. She should know him well enough by now to know he wasn’t saying it to ramp up the physical intimacy of their relationship, and she should know equally well that he wasn’t a sappy guy by nature. Which left only one possibility —she didn’t feel the same way.

And yet sometimes, he’d catch her looking at him with an expression that made him sure she was in love with him too.

He shook his head and tried to push out the thoughts. It was so much easier when there weren’t any real feelings involved. Vivian had taught him that. But the three years between bookended heartbreaks had also taught him that avoiding feelings just made him . . . less. Shallow. Maybe even untrustworthy. He never wanted to be that guy again. Every day he got up trying to prove he was that person no longer.

Ana, on the other hand . . . there had been something in her eyes when he told her how much he admired her honesty that reminded of him of an animal, frightened and trapped. Was that him projecting based on her instant demurral, or was she really hiding something?

He dismissed the thought. This was Ana he was talking about. She was the most together and up-front of any person he’d ever met, not to mention straitlaced. Anything she was hiding had to be the equivalent of stealing a candy bar from a convenience store when she was nine.

Best that he focus on proving himself to her parents so they approved of their relationship. He combed his hair neatly and trimmed his facial hair, which was somewhere between “forgot to shave” and full beard, but Ana had specifically told him not to change it, so he wouldn’t. He slipped on slim-cut dark jeans and a crisp blue button-down shirt, just formal enough to say he took the occasion seriously, casual enough for what he understood to be the Southern California dress code. He considered showing up downstairs in his flip-flops as a joke, but instead, he pulled out the suede Oxfords and a pair of funky socks, this time cats on surfboards.

Oh man. He really was turning into a hipster.

He pushed off that unfortunate realization, snapped on his single nice watch, and shoved his wallet in his pocket. Ready. For anything. He hoped.

Ana was already waiting in the lobby, tapping away on the keyboard of her cell phone. She looked up when she saw him, her mouth rounding into an O. “You look great.”

“So do you.” The white floral sundress displayed her tanned shoulders and arms, the deep V and tight waist accentuating her beautiful figure. A pair of low-heeled strappy sandals showed off a robin’s-egg-blue pedicure that he’d missed during the yoga class. Her hair was caught back in a long fishtail braid, making her look casual and relaxed and much younger than her age. He wanted desperately to kiss her, but she’d already applied some glossy pink lipstick, so instead he took her hand. “Are we walking or Ubering it?”

“Neither.” She held up her phone. “My sister Marisol is coming to pick us up.”

“Marisol.” Bryan racked his brain, but he couldn’t remember if she’d actually told him all her siblings’ names. “Which one is she?”

“The nurse. The next oldest. She’s also the least likely to give you the third degree. She’s married to a white guy, so she’s been through the whole routine herself.”

Bryan paused. That was an aspect of the trip he hadn’t even considered. “Is that likely to be a problem?”

“Oh no. I just mean that you’ll have another ‘outsider’ to talk to at the party. Her husband has picked up a few words of Tagalog but not enough to figure out what’s going on when the older folks get going.” She nudged his arm. “Wait, are you getting nervous?”

“Since you just called me an outsider? A little.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not a bad thing.” Before he could ask her how being an outsider could not be a bad thing, she perked up, pointing through the hotel’s glass doors at a white Toyota Camry that had stopped out front. “There she is. Come on.”

They were approaching the car when the driver stepped out. Bryan blinked for a moment. She wouldn’t have had to tell him they were sisters: Marisol had the same long, thick black hair, the same nose, the same high cheekbones as Ana. But she was several inches taller and clothed in green scrubs.

“Ana!” she squealed, rushing to the curb and throwing her arms around her sister. “You’re here!”

They did the little hoppy-happy thing that long-separated girls tended to do upon reunions, looking each other over and commenting on new hairstyles, weight loss, and manicures. Then finally Ana turned his direction. “Mari, this is my boyfriend, Bryan.”

The word boyfriend gave his insides a jolt like an electric charge. They’d danced around the whole relationship-definition thing, but this was the first time she’d ever introduced him as such. He liked it. A lot.

“Hi, Marisol.” Bryan held out his hand, but she went in straight for the hug.

“It’s so good to meet you, Bryan.” She stepped back and looked him up and down, then shot a grin at Ana that clearly conveyed approval.

“It’s nice to meet you, too. Here, I’ll sit in the back so you can talk.” He ignored their objections and climbed into the backseat of the sedan.

“I can’t believe you actually came,” Marisol said when she pulled out of the hotel parking lot onto the street. “We were taking bets on whether or not you’d be able to get away from work.”

“Miss Daddy’s sixty-fifth? Never.”

“Well, you missed Mom’s sixtieth, because of . . . what? Some tire emergency.”

“It wasn’t a tire emergency; it was a product liability issue . . .” Ana broke off. “Yeah, it was a tire emergency.”

“Well, you should know that Mom has been praying loudly for you to rethink your career choices. She wants me to tell you it’s not too late to go into nursing.”

Ana rolled her eyes. “Last time it was web design like Helena. Her company still doing well? Last time I talked to her, she had just gotten that big studio contract.”

“Oh yeah. We barely see her. She’s almost as busy as you.”

Bryan kept waiting for Ana to say something about her leave of absence, but when she fell silent, he took it as an opportunity to insert a question. “Marisol, where do you work?”

“Providence St. Joseph. Oncology.” She flipped a look over her shoulder at him. “I switched shifts today so I could come pick you guys up. And please, call me Mari. Everyone else does.”

“Okay, Mari. Are all the siblings going to be here?”

“Oh, you bet. I just picked Bettina up at the airport. She’s a senior at UVA, but we flew her in for the weekend. Helena and Jacqueline live in the area, so they’re driving up this afternoon.”

“Married?” Bryan asked. Now that he was here, he realized how little Ana actually talked about her family.

“Jackie and I are. Helena and Ana are still the holdouts, which of course you’re going to hear all about. Brace yourself.” But the way she said it was playful and not ominous.

“Don’t worry, I don’t scare easily. I’m an only child, so my mom has been hinting hard for grandchildren for about ten years.”

“But you resisted?”

“Took me a while to find the right woman, I guess.”

Mari caught his eye in the rearview mirror, looking pleased by the statement, but he saw how Ana just turned to look out the window. Flattered, embarrassed, or something else? Well, he certainly wasn’t going to pretend that his feelings were casual, especially not around her family. They should know that she was important to him.

“Anyway,” Mari said, “this is going to be small by our standards. The kids and their significant others, a few of Mom and Dad’s siblings, and some family friends. Which still means fifty or sixty people, but you should see the family’s wedding receptions. Jackie had ten bridesmaids.”

“That’s because she’s a Kappa Alpha Theta.” Ana turned to speak to Bryan over her shoulder. “Both Jackie and I went to USC, but I was never the sorority type.”

“Really? I’m surprised. I’d think you would have joined and ended up president of your chapter.”

“He’s not wrong,” Mari said.

“I was just focused on getting through school,” she said. “Jackie and Helena have always been the social ones. Well, and Edward. Did he really take two girls to prom this year?”

“Yep. Little Casanova. Smack him upside the head while you’re here, will you? He’s insufferable.”

Bryan smiled as he listened to the banter between the sisters. This was something he’d never experienced himself, given the fact he was an only child, even though he often thought of Alex as a brother. Ana might think her big family was going to scare him off, but if they were anything like Mari, he had a feeling he was going to enjoy today.

He watched the city slide by his window —wide streets, newer strip malls in desert colors of creams and browns and pale oranges, palm trees pretty much everywhere. Mari turned into a nice neighborhood filled with modest midcentury houses, tucked among lush greenery. She pulled into the driveway of a low-slung one-story set back behind a white iron fence, the street on both sides of the driveway filled with cars.

“Here we are. Casa Sanchez.” She put the car into park and threw Bryan a grin. “Sure you’re ready for this?”

“Couldn’t be readier.” He levered open the back door and climbed out, smoothing down his shirt, then opened Ana’s door for her. She sat there for a second, breathing in and out, and then took his hand to step out.

He took the chance to pull her close and whisper in her ear, “Why do you look so nervous? Afraid I’ll embarrass you?”

“What? No!” She dropped her head and muttered, “I’m afraid they’ll embarrass me.”

“I’ll remember to ask your mom to pull out the baby pictures and get it out of the way then.” He squeezed her hand. “Relax. How bad could it be?”

She laughed and stretched up for a kiss. “I’m going to remember you said that.”

It wouldn’t make the right impression to arrive wearing Ana’s lipstick, so he bypassed her mouth and instead kissed her jaw just under her ear.

She shot him a wry smile. “Come on. It’s now or never.”

He followed the sisters up the cement driveway to a perfectly ordinary entryway, flanked by painted brick and featuring a polished oak door with a stained-glass insert. Mari walked in without knocking and announced, “They’re here!”

Immediately, he could hear voices, and he trailed Ana inside. The smell of soy sauce and vinegar and cooking meat wafted from the kitchen, or maybe it was brought by the rush of people into the front room. He wasn’t sure where to look first, at the family members who were greeting Ana in a mix of English and Tagalog or at the house, which was simultaneously pristine and a time capsule of 1980s decor, complete with ivory sofas and rose-colored swag draperies.

A petite woman, even shorter than Ana, pushed her way through the group and regarded him through her glasses with a frown. And then her face broke into a smile. “You must be Bryan. Welcome. I’m Ana’s mom, Flora.” She gestured for him to bend down and kissed him soundly on the cheek, enveloping him in rose-scented perfume.

“I am. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Sanchez.”

She linked arms with him and began to drag him toward the kitchen. “Are you hungry? Have you had Filipino food before? You’re going to love it. You’re not one of those trendy boys who doesn’t eat rice or soy or any of those things, are you?”

“No, I eat everything.”

“Oh, good.” She patted his arm. “Ana, your dad is in the back with Tito Orly and Carding. Ask him when he wants to turn on the barbecue.”

Bryan threw her a helpless look, but Ana just grinned at him and headed for a side door, which he guessed was the exit to the backyard.

The kitchen was as dated as the rest of the house, though it was just as impeccably clean and smelled even more strongly of soy sauce. An elegant-looking woman with her dark hair in a knot carefully fried chicken in a pan with a pair of steel tongs, a frilly apron tied over her slacks and blouse.

“This is Ana’s boyfriend, Bryan,” Mrs. Sanchez said. “These are Ana’s aunts: Macaria, Marguerite, Marisol —yes, Mari is named after her —and Dolores.”

Bryan smiled and nodded to each of the aunts in turn, though he was already wondering how he would remember them all. Then a tall, dark-haired Caucasian man came in through the sliding-glass door, holding a plastic tumbler. He went straight to Mrs. Sanchez. “Do we have any more Pepsi? Dad said there might be some in the garage.”

“I’ll check,” she said. “John, meet Ana’s boyfriend, Bryan.”

His expression turned briefly appraising and he shook Bryan’s hand firmly. “Nice to meet you, Bryan. I’m Mari’s husband.”

He could have guessed that much, but he just nodded. “A pleasure.”

“Come on, you can help me with the drinks.” He looked at the assembled ladies. “Mind if I borrow him for a bit?”

“No, no, you go,” Macaria —at least he thought it was Macaria —said, not looking up from her chicken. Bryan followed John out of the room, down the hall, and then made a sharp left through a door into an empty garage where a large refrigerator was plugged in at the back.

“A bit overwhelming, isn’t it?” John said, opening the refrigerator and pulling two-liter bottles of pop from the door.

“They all seem nice.” Not that he would know in the thirty seconds he’d been there.

“They are. They’re determined to be welcoming.” John chuckled. “This is the first English I’ve heard out of them all day.”

“I appreciate that. Ana said you don’t speak much Tagalog?”

“I’ve picked up bits and pieces, but you’ll notice Ana and her sisters rarely speak it unless they don’t want anyone to know what they’re saying.”

“So if I hear my name and a bunch of Tagalog, I should worry?”

“That just depends. You don’t have to understand the words to get the context. Here, take these.” He handed several bottles to Bryan and went back for more. “How long have you and Ana been together? Sounded like you were a bit of a surprise to everyone.”

“Not that long, even though we’ve known each other for a couple of years. Her best friend is marrying my best friend.”

“Ah.” John shut the door and adjusted his hold on the pop. “Don’t worry, the family is great. I don’t have any relatives here in California so they pretty much adopted me.”

“How long have you and Mari been married?” Bryan asked.

“Eight years. We met in school.”

“You’re a nurse too?”

“Physician’s assistant. Here, we can go out this side door to the backyard and bypass the auntie gauntlet.”

Bryan followed John out the door, around the stuccoed side of the house, to the backyard. And stopped. He would never have guessed from the front, but it was something of a tropical paradise —large swaths of grass and a huge sparkling-blue kidney-shaped swimming pool. Mature foliage hid it from the neighbors, a cluster of palm trees in one corner, a pergola in the other. It was beneath the pergola that the men were hanging out, one of whom he could only guess was Ana’s dad. Ana was nowhere to be seen.

John took it upon himself to make the introduction. “This is Ana’s boyfriend, Bryan. Bryan, this is Ana’s cousin Carding —um, Ricardo —and her father, Mr. Sanchez. Her uncle Orlando was just here a second ago . . .”

Ana’s dad rose from his chair, not challenging but not exactly warm either. He was considerably taller than Ana or her mother, just a shade shorter than Bryan, with a full head of black hair and a trim physique. He held out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Bryan.” Ana’s dad had only a trace of an accent, his English bearing a clear American stamp. Bryan shouldn’t be surprised; Ana had said they’d moved to the US decades ago.

“It’s my pleasure, sir. Thank you for letting me come along for your big day.”

Mr. Sanchez smiled then, but it was an assessing sort of smile. He nodded toward an empty chair, which one of the other men had pulled up. “Have a seat.”

Bryan did as he was invited. “It’s a beautiful day to sit by the pool. Believe it or not, there’s snow in the forecast in Denver next week.”

“Are you from Denver?” Mr. Sanchez asked.

“Born and raised. But I’ve traveled a fair amount.”

“Have you ever been to the Philippines?”

“I have, actually. In my former life, I was a rock climber.” He was loath to pull out his climbing career so soon, but there was no way to answer the question without doing so. “I climbed in Iloilo and Cebu for about two weeks, and then we went on to Thailand. I’ve been wanting to get back for years now.”

“Well, maybe you will. Talk Ana into going back and seeing her extended family. Then again, we barely see her and she only lives a two-hour plane ride away.”

Bryan wasn’t going to make the mistake of taking sides on this one. “She is pretty busy. She’s quite successful.”

“Yes, she is. If you’re no longer a climber, what is it that you do?”

So Bryan found himself telling Ana’s dad about the coffee farm and the roastery and what he wanted to do with the business long-term.

“You know, Carding’s wife’s family owns a coffee plantation in Mindanao.”

“Yes,” Carding broke in, “but they grow robusta, which isn’t in great demand for export. Mostly used locally.”

“That’s interesting,” Bryan said. “As I understand it, farmers went away from the traditional variety and planted robusta because it was rust-resistant. But there’s a resurgence of interest in kapeng barako. . . . Any thoughts about maybe switching back?”

Carding blinked at him, clearly surprised that he knew the Tagalog name. Thank goodness he’d been flipping through one of his coffee references a few days ago. “I’ll have to ask her if they have. I don’t know.”

“There’s also the problem of direct export,” Mr. Sanchez said.

“If you’re interested, I might be able to connect you with the exporter I work with in Colombia. They came out of a missionary organization, and there may be some interest in Mindanao.”

That’s where Ana found him what could have been minutes or hours later, talking about coffee and farms and managing workers and the difficulty of import-export. Far from being unfriendly, Ana’s father and cousin were knowledgeable and eager to share their experience with him. But when Ana appeared, all the conversation broke off.

“Happy birthday, Daddy,” she said, hugging him.

He beamed. “I’m so glad you came. Sit down. Bryan was just telling us about his farm. He says you’re working with him.”

“Just part-time to help him out,” she said. “Can I borrow him? Mom wanted help with the decorations. We still need to put the lights up on the patio.”

Her dad waved a hand. “Leave them. I don’t need lights.”

“Yes, but Mom wants lights.”

Mr. Sanchez gestured with his head to Bryan. “You better go then. What my girls want, they get.”

“And don’t forget it,” Ana said with a smile. She slid her hands into the crook of Bryan’s elbow and pulled him away. As soon as they were out of earshot, she said, “So that looked like it was going well.”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

She shrugged. “It’s been so long since I brought anyone home, I didn’t know what he’d do.”

“They were both really helpful. I came away with some new ideas and a possible new coffee supplier.”

“Wow, you work fast. I’m sure you impressed him. My dad was a bank president. He knows more about commodities than I could possibly learn in a lifetime. He could probably quote you prices on coffee futures from memory.” She stopped before several large plastic bins, one of which contained a mess of twinkle lights. “My mom wants these strung up on the patio cover.”

Bryan squinted at the lattice overhead. “Okay. I can do that. Do we have a ladder or a step stool?”

“Nope.”

“That might be slightly more difficult, then.” He looked around and found a patio chair that didn’t look like it would break under his weight. “What are you going to do?”

“Tiki torches to keep away the bugs.” She picked up one from a bundle on the ground along with a small mallet. “It was either that or cooking, and trust me, you don’t want me to cook.”

“Surely you can’t be that bad.”

She fixed him with a look. “If you’re dating me thinking I’m ever going to feed you anything that didn’t start out frozen or pre-marinated, you’re after the wrong woman. You should have taken your chance with Rachel while you could.”

Bryan laughed. “I never had a chance with Rachel.” There went that look again, this time with more heat, and he held up his hands. “Don’t worry, I’m dating you for your brains.”

“Sure you are.”

Bryan took a quick look around to make sure no one was watching, then pulled her against him and gave her a brief kiss. “And your family coffee connections.”

“Oh, is that right?” One more kiss, this time lingering a bit longer.

The sliding-glass door rattled open and Mrs. Sanchez’s voice rang out. “Ana, can you come in here for a second, please?” The door slid closed again.

Ana sighed and tipped her head against his chest. “This is her version of flicking the porch lights.”

“It’s all starting to make sense now.”

She chuckled and pulled away. “I better go. If I don’t look suitably abashed for smooching on the patio, she might not let us sit together.”

Bryan laughed, but when Ana didn’t so much as crack a smile, he sobered. “Really?”

“Don’t want to find out. Chop-chop with the lights.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He bent over the box and pulled out a jumbled string, which was going to take longer to untangle than it would to hang. When he straightened up, Ana’s dad was watching him with an unreadable expression.

Back to best behavior. Definitely.