Hudson tapped his fingers on the center storage compartment. “Right. And yet, from what I can see, you’re nothing but kind. That’s why I really wonder about karma sometimes. If there is such a thing, though, I’m not sure I’m helping my chances by owning a company like Break Up.”

Annika glanced at him sharply before watching the road again. “You know what you said at the Time interview? How you think Make Up is the more moral company?”

He nodded, his eyes straight ahead.

“Do you really mean that? Do you have … doubts about Break Up?”

He scratched the side of his jaw, looking torn. “It’s complicated,” he said finally, his voice distant. “Anyway.” He turned on the radio, clearly finished with the conversation for now. “Let’s get some music on, what do you say? Maybe some mariachi?”

She huffed a light laugh, even as she clutched the steering wheel tighter. Here was a crack in his armor that she could peek through—a hint, a hope of change. Maybe Hudson Craft wouldn’t always be at the helm of Break Up. And then what? What might that mean for them?

Her dad opened the door wearing a Why Whine When You Can Wine apron. Hudson shot her a smug look, clearly self-satisfied with his choice in a gift for the host.

“Yes, yes, you’re a genius,” Annika said, stepping in to give her dad a hug.

“Dr. Dev,” Hudson said formally, extending a hand. “Thank you so much for having me. I brought you some wine.”

Her dad accepted the wine and checked out the label. “A 2013 Côte-Rôtie la Landonne! Nice choice, Hudson. Very nice. Thank you.”

Hudson smiled as they walked through the foyer. “This is a stunning home. Is that a replica of a chandelier from the Hall of Mirrors in Versailles? It’s exquisite.”

Annika’s dad beamed. “It is indeed. Annika’s mother had that commissioned many years ago. We have an identical one in the master bedroom as well. Why don’t you come in? I’ll show you the thirties-style lighting I had installed in the kitchen.”

They walked in, talking about lighting and floors and faucets. Annika followed, smiling a little.

They sat out in the backyard under the pergola, pink honeysuckle entwined in its wooden beams, creating a sweet-smelling canopy above them. Lanterns hung from ropes tied to the beams, casting a soft golden light and flickering shadows around them. The feast her dad had laid out looked like enough to feed twelve people, but Hudson was making a valiant effort to eat it all.

“It’s so good,” he said, stuffing more naan into his mouth. “I mean, I thought I’d eaten good Indian food in restaurants, but this…”

Her dad chuckled. “You can’t beat family recipes. Of course, Annika thinks my food is far too spicy.”

Hudson raised his eyebrows at her. “Seriously?”