I shivered, pulling my gloves out of my pocket so I could put them on. “Big wimps,” I said, looking back at my retreating family.

“Let’s call your parents and brother wimps,” Simon said. “I think your abuela gets a pass though. It’s never this cold in Puerto Rico.”

“True.”

“You know, she’s sweeter than I thought she was going to be.”

“Who? Abuela? She just has you charmed,” I said.

“Completely. I guess I thought with all the talk of matchmaking, she’d be a little more . . . I don’t know. Out there.”

“It’s probably my fault you had that impression.”

“I’m pretty sure the guy just off his mission showing up at your office gave me that impression.”

I chuckled. “Maybe so.”

“I’ve enjoyed getting to know your family,” Simon said. “They’re great.”

We turned a corner and headed back toward the house. “We have that in common, then. I love your family too.”

He nodded. “Speaking of family, have you talked to Jamie lately?”

I dropped my gaze to the ground. The answer to his question was easy. Explaining why was another matter altogether.

“Lane, he’s worried. Are you avoiding his calls on purpose?”

I dropped onto a concrete bench beside the pathway, the cold seeping through my clothes so quickly I immediately regretted my decision to sit. Simon lowered himself down beside me.

“I’m avoiding his calls mostly because it’d be weird to spend a lot of time talking to him when my family thinks you’re him,” I said.

He leaned forward, perching his elbows on his knees, looking at the ground between his feet. After a beat of silence, he turned his head, catching my eye. “Is that the only reason?”

“Don’t ask me that, Simon. I’m still working through how I feel about Jamie. I know I need to talk to him. And I will as soon as I’m back in Chapel Hill. But it feels like too much to try to sort everything out now.”

“Lane! Simon!” John’s voice echoed across the garden. We stood, waving him over. He broke into a jog, covering the distance between us in a few strides. “Abuela isn’t feeling well, so Dad’s gone to get the car. We’re going to head home.”

“Is she okay?”

“We think so,” John said. “She’s asked for hot chocolate and a warm blanket, so I think she’s probably just cold.”

“And tired too,” I said. “There are a lot of stairs in the Biltmore House, and she climbed them all.” The three of us walked together toward the front of the house, where Dad was already waiting in the SUV. Mom was helping Abuela into the front seat. Simon stepped up and offered his assistance, closing the door for Abuela, then offering my mother a hand as she climbed into the back.