When she was done, he plucked her out of her seat and put her in his lap, making silly faces at her and blowing raspberries on her forehead. She giggled uncontrollably, loving it, wiping her ice cream sticky fingers on his shirt. He didn’t care.
Watching their interaction, I was flooded with warmth. My uterus started kicking at me. It kind of hurt.
Then he said something to her about “adios” and suddenly Chloe Ann’s face fell like a brick. Her lower lip stuck out, brow scrunching together. She wailed something to him, talking fast, punctuated by hiccups.
Mateo kept apologizing, trying to sound light. She shook her head and buried it in Mateo’s neck, growing quiet, her little arms wrapped around her. He held her close and shot me a look—it was the look of his heart breaking.
Eventually he had to get up, and he held Chloe Ann to him like that as we walked toward the park exit. At the sight of the gift shop though, her tears seemed to dry up and she pointed excitedly at a stuffed monkey. Mateo let her down and she ran over to it, holding it to her chest.
“What was that about?” I asked him.
“I told her it was time to take her home,” he admitted softly. “She asked when I was coming home. Said she missed me and wanted me to tell her stories at night. I told her I wasn’t coming home anymore.” His eyes were getting watery. He sighed. “It’s been like this every time I see her. I wish I could see her more, but until the divorce is final, Isabel keeps it to just once a week.”
“But legally she can’t do that,” I said. “If your divorce isn’t final, you’re just separated. You have the rights.”
He nodded slowly. “I know. But I don’t want to fight Isabel right now, not with Chloe Ann on the line. I have done and will do what I can to make Isabel happy, to keep whatever peace there is.”
The gravity of the situation sank over me. The desperation in Mateo’s voice was unmistakable. My eyes stung. “I’m a terrible person,” I blurted out, unable to keep it inside.
Mateo’s eyes widened with shock. “Don’t you ever say that,” he whispered harshly, his gaze fiery. “You don’t ever say that about yourself, understand?”
“Papa!” Chloe Ann cried out. He slowly tore his eyes off of mine and looked over at her. She jumped up and down, the monkey raised above her head, a pleading look in her eyes. “Por favor, Papa!”
He sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Si, Chloe Ann,” he said and walked over to her, taking the monkey from her hands and walking it to the counter. She followed him, hanging on to the edge of his shirt and pulling at it with excitement.
I breathed in deeply, trying to ease the tightness of my chest. The pain came back, however, when Mateo and Chloe Ann—and the monkey—came out of the store. Mateo stopped and waved at me. “Adios,” he said and his daughter said the same. Then they walked away.
I guess I had to leave separately too. I wondered if all our lives were ever going to truly come together.
The week went on with a bit of a damper on things. While the weather was still hot and humid, I felt like the mugginess was becoming a glove around my throat. I stopped finding the heat to be beautiful; instead I found it oppressive and annoying, my patience being tested. I did what I could to seem cheery for Mateo, to try and assimilate into my new life. While he was at work, I explored the city on my own, until I had a really good feeling for the neighborhoods. I liked Madrid—a lot. But I couldn’t shake the knot of unease in my stomach.
I talked to Josh on the phone, and though his advice was along the lines of, “No one ever said this would be easy, the hard things are worth it. Hang in there,” just hearing his voice and having someone to vent to made me feel better. I talked to Claudia too, but I didn’t get very in-depth. I guess I was afraid she’d think I regretted moving here and that really wasn’t the case.
By Thursday, Mateo came home to see me sitting on the couch and flipping absently through the TV channels, not understanding a word of it. Rain had started to fall from a dark grey sky but the heat pressed at the windows from the outside.
“That is it,” he said, tossing his briefcase on the kitchen counter. “I miss my smiling Estrella.”
I turned to look at him, plastering a smile on my face. “What are you talking about?”
“You aren’t very good at lying,” he said. He came over and sat beside me. He was wearing a sharp navy blue suit today, including a waistcoat. He had a meeting with a client from the UK, someone who was supposedly interested in franchising his restaurant.
“How was your meeting?” I asked, wanting the subject off of me.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. It is a tough sell. I think they thought I was still some big football star and that’s why they were eager to meet. I am not sure what my partner told them, but they looked a bit disappointed.”
“No one could be disappointed with you,” I said, pulling him to me and kissing him softly. The feel of his lips and tongue still made my nerves tingle, as if they were stroked by lightning. “Besides, they could always Google you if they had the inclination to do a bit of research.”
“Have you Googled me?” he asked curiously.
I gave him a quick kiss on the nose. “Of course,” I said. “I wanted to find naked pictures of you, something to get off to while I was in Vancouver.”
He grinned slowly and cocked a brow. “I like that. Did you find any?”
I shook my head. “No. Did you know there is a really fat man from Mexico called Mateo Casalles? He doesn’t have a problem having naked pictures of him.”
He laughed. “Good to know.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ears and tugged on it. “So, I have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise?” Did I like surprises anymore? I wasn’t sure.
“Well, I have two surprises, one you will probably like more than the other. Tonight we are going for dinner at my parents’ house.”
I tried to keep the smile on my face, I really did. But my anxiety wouldn’t let me.
“Don’t look so worried,” he said with a gentle expression. “They will love you and you will love them. And if you don’t love them, you will love Carmen’s food.” Carmen was his stepmother, and he never referred to her as Mom. “Lucia will be there too, of course, and she may bring that man of hers that she’s seeing, so you don’t have to be the only one feeling awkward. He has also not met them yet.”
Well, that would help a bit. I exhaled. I knew I’d have to meet them at some point, but the idea still terrified me. Despite what Lucia said about them, I was so afraid that they wouldn’t like me. I needed them to like me, to like Mateo and I together.
“And,” he went on, “as your reward for getting through dinner, as well as an attempt to put a smile on your face again, and to escape this damn heat, I am taking us tomorrow morning to Barcelona. I took time off work and there are no more meetings with the lawyer for a bit—we can stay in the apartment there. Five days on the beach. What do you say?”
Well, that did put an actual smile on my face.
“Really?” I exclaimed. “We can just go there?”
“Of course,” he said. “You are my Estrella. Anything for you.”
“Anything?” I asked seductively. I slowly raised the hem of my skirt until he saw I wasn’t wearing underwear.
I could practically see him salivating, his eyes going glossy with lust. “Especially that,” he growled. I lay back on the couch as he buried his head in between my legs.
Soon, I was smiling a second time.
Chapter 25
It took me ages to get ready for his parents’ house. I was trying on everything I owned, experimenting with my hair and makeup, trying to make myself look as demure as possible. I eventually settled on a long-sleeved navy blue dress, form-fitting but cleavage-covering, and pulled my hair back into a braid that covered up the tats on my neck. I wasn’t taking any chances with these people.
On the car ride over there, I was starting to crack a bit. My breathing felt restricted, my thoughts ch
aotic. I kept rubbing my palms over and over again on my dress. I’d had panic attacks as a teenager, after the divorce, and this felt like one of those episodes all over again.
I couldn’t hide it from Mateo. He took one look at me and pulled the car over to the side of the highway, so private and public at the same time.
“Vera,” he said, twisting in his seat, putting his hands on my face. “Look at me, Vera.”
I managed to meet his eyes, overwhelmed by the panic in them, as if he was feeling how I was feeling, absorbing my emotions for his own.
“Vera,” he said, his voice low, soothing but strong. “You’re okay. You are with me, yes? You are here and you are okay. Just breathe. Breathe in slowly. Breathe out slowly.”
I did as he asked, trying to focus on my breath going in and out of my body. Eventually my heart rate slowed and I was starting to feel more centered and in control.
“Oh, my Estrella,” he said softly. He pressed a gentle kiss on my forehead. “What happened?” he murmured.
I swallowed. “I don’t know,” I said weakly. “I just…I’m just so afraid. So afraid.”
He sighed and wrapped his arms around me. “I know you are. And it’s okay to be afraid. But, you will see…my parents are not your parents.” I flinched slightly, the memories of my mother and Mercy slamming into me. I had told him all about them—he knew. He went on, “You deserve good people in your life and happiness. Trust me, my family is good people.”
“They won’t like me,” I said, nearly sobbing. “The deck is stacked against us, Mateo. There are too many things wrong about me.”
“Vera,” he said sharply. He pulled back and peered intently into my eyes, commanding me to listen to him. “Do you know why I love you?”
I tried to think, and in my frazzled state came up with nothing. “I have no idea.”
“I love you because you are you. You’re a little bit crazy, and I find that more interesting than being normal. You’re passionate and I find that more fascinating than being calm. You’re curious and adventurous and sexual, and you’re full of life and you make me want to be a better man, to live louder, to bend and break all the damn rules.” He kissed me hard and I was so shocked by it, shocked by his words, I didn’t have time to reciprocate before he broke away. “And those are all the reasons why my parents will fall in love with you too.”
I gave him a shy smile. “Well, except for the sexual bit.”
“Hey, they are happy as long as I am happy. And Vera, you make me happier than I have ever been. Even now, even with all this shit going on around us, I am still happy because I have you—by my side and in my bed. We will get through this. I promise you. I swear on the stars.” He raised my hand to his lips and ran them over my knuckles.
My lip quivered. Fuck, I was getting really tired of getting so weepy all the time, but at least now these were happy tears.
Mr. and Mrs. Casalles lived in a two-story stucco house on the outskirts of the city, in a nicely kept suburban neighborhood. It kind of reminded me of home, except all the houses had this wonderful Spanish-style architecture and the gardens were a lot more colorful.
Mateo pulled the car up into the driveway beside Lucia’s Mercedes. It was funny—the car that Mateo drove was just a black SUV, nowhere near as flashy as his sister’s, even though he could obviously afford a Mercedes himself. I liked that about Mateo, how he had quite a bit of wealth, but aside from the suits and the apartments, he didn’t really flaunt it.
I got out of the car, conscious of my every step, every movement, walking in slow motion. He came around to my side and looped his arm through mine.
“Did I tell you yet how beautiful you look?” he asked, grinning down at me.
“No,” I said. “Did I forget to tell you the same?”
He stroked along his beard, holding his face in his hand. “This old thing?”
We walked up the stairs to the porch and rang the doorbell. I was surprised he didn’t barge right into the house.
I held my breath as I heard footsteps on the other side. The door opened and an older man with a thick grey beard and glasses peered out at us. He was a tad shorter than Mateo, slightly portly, and I was immediately reminded of a thinner George R. R. Martin. He even had a fisherman’s cap on.
“Papa,” Mateo said with a respectful nod.
His father smiled only slightly at his son and then fixed his eyes on me. He raised his bushy silver eyebrows and said something in Spanish to Mateo.
Mateo looked to me. “Papa doesn’t speak English. But he thinks you’re very pretty.”
Now I raised my brow. That didn’t seem like what he said.
Luckily there wasn’t time to stand on the porch and think about it. He opened the door wider and Mateo led us inside.
The home itself was cozy and inviting. Very Spanish—lots of tapestries, some Dali and Picasso prints among pastoral landscape paintings, walls of color mixed with wood. It smelled amazing, like herbs and olive oil.
“Mateo!” a woman cried, coming out from what I assumed was the kitchen, wiping her hands on her messy apron. This must have been Carmen, and at first I was shocked at how young she looked until I remembered that his father had waited ten years before he remarried.
She put Mateo’s face in her hands, squeezing it until I had to laugh, then kissed him twice on each cheek. She was a tall woman with a lively, friendly face. When she finally focused on me and I could see that same warmth in her eyes, I knew she was just a friendly, good person.
She came right over to me and embraced me like I was an old friend. “Vera,” she said, her accent heavy. “I am so happy to meet you, Vera. I have been asking Mateo about you.”
I was so stunned, I didn’t know what to say. She pulled away, and with a firm grasp on my shoulders, looked me up and down. “You are very beautiful. Such a lovely face.” She looked at Mateo. “She is an angel, Mateo.”
“More like an angel in disguise,” he said gleefully, biting his lip at the daggers I was shooting him.
“Oh, you are no good,” Carmen said to him. She looked back to me. “Are you hungry? I hope you are hungry.” She started leading me toward the living room. “Come, come, sit down.”
Mateo’s father said something but Carmen waved him away. “Quiet Sebastian,” she admonished him. “Mateo’s father doesn’t speak a word of English but don’t worry, he is more harmless than he looks. He thinks he’s turned into Hemingway in his old age.”
I wanted to make a remark about George R. R. Martin but decided not to push it. I had a tendency to gang up on people when I was trying to make friends.
Carmen sat me down on a worn velvet sofa. Mateo joined me while his father and Carmen disappeared into the kitchen.
“You are doing great,” Mateo said to me, putting his arm over my shoulder. “Carmen is very lovely.”
“Yes, she is.”
His father came out a moment later holding a bottle of wine and two wine glasses. He gave us one each and poured the bottle of red into our glasses. Mateo thanked him and he only grunted, shuffling back into the kitchen.
“My father is shy,” Mateo said. “And, well, he can be a bit of a grump before he’s had his wine. He will loosen up later, you will see. I bet he is nervous about you.”
“Me? Why?”
“Because he doesn’t speak English and wishes he did,” he said. “He always wanted to learn, he just never got around to it.”
“Maybe I can teach him English one day,” I suggested. “Apparently I am good at it.”
“You are,” he said, clinking the edge of his glass against mine. “And even the fact that you would offer that makes me very, very happy.”
We finished our wine while Carmen worked in the kitchen. Eventually his father came out and made small talk with Mateo, becoming more animated the more wine he drank. Then Lucia came down, a sullen look on her pretty face.
“What is wrong, sister?” Mateo asked in English, giving her a hug.
She shrugge
d. “Carlos isn’t coming for dinner. He is working late. Again.”
She came over to me and gave me a quick hug. “Nice to see you again, Vera,” she said sincerely, even though she was pouting a bit.
“Fuck Carlos,” Mateo said.
“Mateo!” Carmen admonished him from the kitchen. “Please be nice.”
He laughed. “I am serious, Lucia. He is always cancelling on these dinners. When are you going to give him the boot?”
She glared at him. “His reasons are all true. Don’t be so overprotective.”
He sat back down, pulling me against him. “I am not overprotective. I am just getting annoyed that you are dating the invisible man, that is all. I mean, how do you even kiss him if you can’t see his face? Seems complicated, yes?”
I elbowed him, feeling like Carmen. “Be nice.”
He grinned at me like a jackass. “What? It’s true. I wonder about such things.”
I rolled my eyes, though secretly I was enjoying the banter between the two. Playful Mateo was always fun and he really loved to rile Lucia up who fell into his trap every single time.
Dinner was pretty much the same thing, except that his father was smiling a lot more. He asked me a few questions too, which eager beaver Lucia translated for me. The food was amazing—finally some authentic homemade paella that wasn’t made for tourists—and there were endless bottles of wine. I was pretty buzzed, laughing at everything, while Mateo stayed sober so he could drive us home. And by the time that came, I actually didn’t want to leave. I had a long embrace with Carmen and even Sebastian seemed affectionate enough when we said our goodbyes. For all his grump, there was an innate kindness in his eyes.
In the car ride back, I told Mateo that I had been terribly wrong about his family.
“I told you so,” he chided me. “They are good people and they trust me.”
“I wish everyone was good like they are,” I said.
“Yes, the world would be better,” he said. “But frankly, I am grateful for them and the way things are. Sometimes you don’t need everyone on your side, you only need a few.”
Keep This Promise Page 81
