“We’re more than that. And I’m furious that you’re talking about me behind my back.”
“It’s not like I’m calling you a bitch or something. You two are cute.”
Veronica pushed her fists deeper into her hips. “Uh, thank you?”
“Now we’re talking.” Chloe plucked a silky, purple top out of her bag. “This is for you. You really need to start dressing better, especially if you’re supposed to be a … buyer.” She held her hands up in quotes on the word buyer.
“Ouch. Are you trying to hurt me?” Veronica looked down and pulled the hem of her shirt.
“Actually, you’ve been dressing much better these days. It’s just tonight, now that your lover boy is gone, you don’t seem so put together.”
“Do I need to appear put together if we’re so cute?”
“Stop being huffy and let’s get out of here.” Chloe pushed the top into Veronica’s hands. “Change.”
Veronica started to unbutton her blouse as they reached the elevator and grabbed the purple, off-the-shoulder top. “Should we stop by Amanda’s office to invite her?”
“I already did and she’s way too busy for us girls tonight.” Chloe ruffled her hair. “Ever since my birthday dinner a few weeks ago, she’s always working or seeing Jake. I think they have something serious starting.”
Veronica stopped in her tracks. “You’re talking about Amanda Larson, right?”
Chloe snorted as they entered the elevator. “She’s totally smitten.”
“Wow. I need to talk to her about this.” Veronica bent to click the eighth floor button, where Amanda’s office was located, but Chloe stopped her. “She gave me strict orders not to interrupt her again. She’s in one of those moods.”
Shrugging, Veronica clicked the first floor button. “Cover for me.”
The two had a regular act of getting dressed in the elevator. Okay, so maybe she hadn’t been living a mundane life after all. It was all perspective. Chloe raised her purse up high and covered the camera, so Veronica could change her shirt quickly.
After pulling the new top on, she smoothed it out, rolled up her work shirt and put it into her bag “Where’s this show Marco’s taking us to? It’s kind of early, isn’t it?” She looked at the clock on the elevator wall—six thirty.
“He’s already there, down in SoHo. Supposed to be a good band he works with. An early show, I guess.” Chloe pulled out her gloss from her bag and spread it on her lips, using the shiny elevator wall as her mirror, then handed it to Veronica.
Copying her friend, she put some on, straightened her hair, and pulled up her top. Chloe stepped over and pulled it back down. “A little cleavage doesn’t hurt anyone.”
“For Diego’s eyes only.” Even if it was only via electronics. He liked their nightly Skype calls, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t. Smartphones brought long distance to a whole new level. Even though nothing was better than the real Diego in the flesh.
• • •
“This band is fantastic.” Chloe rolled her shoulders back and forth, bouncing to the rhythm.
It was a nice combination of guitars and strings. The woman singing had a deep, throaty sound. Veronica had a lot to learn about music, and she wanted to know everything since it was a huge part of Diego’s life. “I like it, too. What style is this?”
Marco smiled, showing his white teeth. Yeah, he looked like Diego, but there was no doubt Diego had his own sexiness about him. Marco was taller and bulkier, his arms filling out the T-shirt and jacket he wore. Diego had a mystery about him that reeled her in.
“It’s called folk rock.”
“Is this the type of stuff Diego plays?” Chloe asked.
“Kind of. He’s more of a new acoustic songwriter. You should both come to his show next week. I’ll make sure you have tickets.” He pulled out his phone to type in a reminder.
“Oh, can’t wait!” Chloe bounced more and the audience applauded as the song finished. “She’s good.” Chloe whistled, one of those loud ones, with two fingers in her mouth.
“Geez, Chloe, take it down a notch.” Veronica pulled the drink away from her friend.
“Party pooper.” Chloe reached for her beer bottle and chugged.
“Have you talked to Diego since he’s been gone?” Marco leaned back, his arm on the back of Chloe’s seat. Chloe might have said they weren’t into each other, but it looked like they were. Chloe’s eyes gleamed when Marco looked her way.
“He texted me today. Seems like he’s getting his work done.”
“Yeah. He’s been on a roll writing new songs, thanks to you, I hear.” He winked and glanced at the stage.
Veronica’s cheeks warmed. What did Marco know about her and Diego? Did he know about their nightly escapades?
She didn’t really care if the whole world knew, but she also valued privacy. Still, brothers talked, and twin brothers had a connection—or so Diego said.
Then his second comment hit her. He’s been writing songs, thanks to you. Odd. Diego had told her that many times. She found it charming and a huge turn-on, but to hear his brother say it, too, made her skin crawl—in a bad way. Was she just an inspiration board for Diego? A muse?
Stop being negative. To clear her thoughts, she struck up more conversation with Marco. “What type of shows does Diego perform in Miami?”
He hunched forward, his elbows on the table, and smiled. “It’s not always performing. I’m sure you know about his producing and such. He also likes to see his little lady as much as possible.”
The music died behind her. The air froze. The world stopped spinning on its axis. Was this where the roller coaster dropped? A deep, dark drop all the way to the fiery center of the earth. She couldn’t breathe; the air lodged in her lungs. Patting her chest, she sucked in air again, but the pain was still there.
Chloe yelped, which deepened the shock on Marco’s face. “Wait, what do you mean ‘his little lady’? Does he have a girlfriend down there?”
Marco’s eyes popped and he held up his hand. “No. No, I didn’t mean … No. I mean … shit.” He ran his hand through his hair. “He doesn’t … look, it’s not my place to talk about it. I thought you knew.” He gave Veronica a grimace.
“No, I didn’t know about any woman in Miami, but thanks for telling me. I guess I had other ideas of where this was leading.”
“No, no, hear me out, Veronica.” Marco’s big hand held her back from leaving the table. “Diego doesn’t have a girlfriend in Miami. Shit. I told him to tell you.” His eyes darted to Chloe, pleading for help, but Chloe flung killer laser beams in his direction.
He swiped his hand through his hair and it achingly reminded Veronica of Diego when he was nervous.
“Diego has a little girl.”
Holy hell. She held her hand up to stop him from talking. “What?”
“He goes to Miami to see Sofia, his daughter.”
“He has a daughter and he didn’t tell me?”
“He planned on telling you.” Marco’s words were rushed.
“Well, he didn’t did he? Instead he left out that very important tidbit.” She scooted back her chair, a sharp squeak ringing out around the bar. Everyone looked at her, but she didn’t care. She had to get out of there before Marco witnessed her sobbing like a teenager who’d lost the beauty pageant.
She definitely was a sucker. A sucker for men who led her on, filled her with dreams, hope, and adventure, and then told her anything to make her fall for them. “I’ll be …” She couldn’t finish without crying. She turned on her heel and rushed to the bathroom in the back.
Chloe whimpered out her name behind her.
Oh, hell, she was pissed. Pissed, sad, furious, and crushed. All the emotions swarmed her as she slammed the bathroom stall shut and fell to the stupid dirty toilet seat. This time she didn’t even care she hadn’t dressed it with millions of toilet paper strips. The goddamn sex god who turned her life into a sexy exploration had her falling for him completely. In o
nly a few short weeks she’d thought they had something special. Shit, maybe he only saw her to get his words going. He and Marco always spoke about how helpful she was.
How could he lie to her? And not just a teeny-tiny lie, but something that would affect his entire existence … make her see him in a completely new light. Sure, she told him a little fib, but his involved others … a little girl.
She tried to laugh aloud, but tears dropped and a bark fell from her lips instead, sounding like a dog in heat. After a few minutes of deep breathing and meditative thoughts, she had her tears under control, but her anger loomed above her like a dark cloud.
A light knock sounded on the stall door. “You okay, Vero?” Chloe’s sweet voice sounded through the bathroom. She hoped it was only them in there.
“I’m fine. Go have fun with Marco.” She held her stomach as if in pain.
“I’m not leaving you in here to mope alone.”
Veronica opened the stall, pulling the door toward her and peeking around it. “I’m okay. Really.”
Chloe laughed sadly. “No, you’re not. You have black streaks down your face.” She tried to pull the door open. “Get out of there and I’ll help you look presentable. You’ll go out there, pretend you’re not this affected, and show Marco you’re all right. Don’t let him tell Diego anything. He doesn’t deserve that pleasure.”
Veronica bent her head and studied her hands. Yeah, Diego didn’t need to know she was torn. She should act like it was no big deal. But hell, it was a huge deal. He had a freaking daughter. What about the mother? Where was she? Did he still love the woman? Maybe Veronica was just a simple distraction or a way to find his words.
He’d lied and continued to lie to her! She would not have it. No way. No how.
“Yeah, you’re right. I can’t let Marco see me like this.” She rushed out of the stall to the mirror. “Okay, give me your makeup bag.”
They began their work on her face, prepping it, adding more mascara, removing the streaks, and adding bright red lipstick to bring her alive. She was not dead. No man would ever kill her drive for life. She. Would. Not. Let. That. Happen.
“Ready?” Chloe clasped her shoulders and faced her. “You’re going to go out there, sit at the table like nothing happened, get through two more songs, and then we’ll leave. Do not let him make you cry.”
“Okay.” Veronica nodded, chewing on her inner cheek.
“You can do this.”
“Yes, I can do this.” She pulled back her shoulders. Veronica walked to the bathroom door and took a deep breath, twisting her hands. Chloe’s hand squeezed her shoulder as they entered the bar area. Acting time again. Hold your head high and make it through the night until you’re home.
As she approached the table, her lover’s twin was talking on his phone. Shit. She hoped it wasn’t Diego, but who else would it be? And damn, watching Marco speak with some of the same gestures as Diego in Spanish, she wanted to cry again. Don’t do it. One foot in front of the other.
Chloe seemed to sense her hesitancy and pushed Veronica closer to the table.
Marco hung up as they approached, stood, and pulled out Veronica’s chair. “You okay? I’m so sorry. I didn’t—”
“Stop. I’m fine. In fact, I don’t give a damn.” There. She sounded unaffected, right?
Marco flinched back, pushing his phone deep into his pocket. “I thought—”
“She said she doesn’t care. Order us some more drinks and shut up. We’re going to listen to the band and enjoy ourselves.” Chloe looked toward the stage, avoiding eye contact with Marco.
Veronica couldn’t help but let a small smile slip. Chloe actually told this enormous, cute guy to shut up. Guess they really were made for each other.
“I’ll be right back, then.” Marco walked to the bar with a wary look on his face.
Before Veronica could open her mouth to say something—anything to keep her mind from wandering—her cell phone vibrated. Nope. She wasn’t going to check it. It could only be two people. Amanda or Diego, and she knew without a doubt it was the latter.
“You going to get that?”
She shook her head and stood, her hands on the table. “No, and I can’t make it through two songs, Chloe. I’ve got to go.”
Chloe scooted her chair back. “You can.”
Veronica walked away, her hand in the air in a wave. “I’m going. You stay. Pretend I’m okay. Please. Tell him I have an early date or something.”
“Call me if you need me. I mean it,” Chloe yelled after her.
Once outside, Veronica slouched against the brick wall and breathed in the smoggy air. The sour taste in her mouth wouldn’t leave and she jumped when a group passed by.
Damnit to hell. She should not let a guy affect her this way, but it was so hard to think he had been lying to her this whole time. He had a daughter … and an ex who was important enough to bear that child. She couldn’t make heads or tails out of her feelings. Why would he lie like this, when he appeared so sincere? Could he really spend those endless nights touching her skin, hanging out in each other’s arms, sharing stories, spending a day at a toy store with her if he didn’t care? A toy store! Would he say he felt her in his heart if he really didn’t? Only a few nights ago he’d told her he didn’t want to lose her.
Well, fuck that. She was lost. He couldn’t lie to her in such a way and still think she would just sit back and take it. This was huge. If he thought she wouldn’t care, he had another think coming.
This had to be a sign. It wasn’t meant to be, and her mother was completely right. This was a whim and she got it out of her system. Right? It didn’t feel right, but she’d have to make it so. She couldn’t see Diego anymore. He’d surely try to talk his way out of the situation with his sweet words, but she would be long gone by the time he returned. Time to move on—even if it hurt her to the point that she buckled over in pain.
At the edge of the sidewalk, she held up her hand for the next taxi. Her tears began to fall along with each passing cab. Nothing—not even catching a cab—went her way. When one finally stopped, she climbed in and checked her phone messages. She couldn’t help herself—the anguish ate her up.
PapaGuitarra: We need to talk. Pick up. I’m calling.
As if on cue, her phone rang—not a text this time, but a real call. She swallowed and rubbed her neck with her fingers. No. She wouldn’t answer. She wouldn’t be able to control the tears and she wouldn’t allow him the knowledge of how much she hurt. He’d hear it in her voice, her words, her heart. He knew her in every way. She shook her head and turned off the phone, shoving it into her purse.
She raised her chin and inhaled. No man would do this to her. Not again. It was time to call her mom in the morning and arrange a real date with David. A man who was interested. A man who wouldn’t lie to her. One who fit into her life. It was time to move on—even if her heart didn’t want to.
Chapter Eighteen
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Diego was going to kill his brother. As he paced back and forth in the restaurant foyer, heat consumed him. Whether from the damn Miami weather or the added angst from the shitty situation his brother left him in, it didn’t matter. Sweat pooled on his forehead. He had to talk to Veronica, but she wasn’t answering her phone. Texting didn’t help either. Diego dialed Marco’s number again. The bastard. Luckily, he picked up after one ring.
“Where’s Veronica?” Diego didn’t wait for his brother to greet him.
“She left and she looked upset, bro.” Marco’s voice wavered. “I’m sorry—”
“I’m going to kick your ass. You might’ve ruined the best thing that has ever happened to me. She won’t answer her phone.” Diego walked to the front door of the restaurant and stared out the window.
“Shit. Chloe left too.” Marco’s voice raised an octave. He obviously regretted the mix-up, but Diego didn’t give a shit. “I’ll fix it. Give me her address and I’ll find her.”
“No freakin’ way. Madr
e de dios … tell me exactly what you blurted.”
“She asked about Miami.”
“Uh-huh.” That was strange since they already had that conversation over the weekend, but he let his brother continue. Diego traipsed back to the foyer of the restaurant.
“Then I blurted out that you like to go and see your little lady.”
He stopped pacing, rubbing the space between his eyebrows with his thumb and forefinger. “Wait. So you didn’t say it was my daughter—you said my little lady?”
“Yeah. But then I clarified that it was Sofia.” Marco rushed his words. He knew he was a dick.
Damn it to hell.
“Maybe I should fly back tonight.” He glanced at the restaurant table where Sofia sat, so beautiful in her bright pink, silky top and smile as she sipped her fancy drink. “No. I can’t. I’m at dinner with Sofia.”
“Well, keep calling Veronica. I’ll help if you want me to, since I screwed this up for you.”
Diego ran his empty hand through his hair and leaned against the wall avoiding eye contact with the hostess, who watched him curiously. “She’ll have to answer eventually, or I’ll fix it when I get back on Sunday, I guess.”
“Sorry, bro. I promise I didn’t mean to—”
“Lo que sea.” Diego hung up and took a deep breath. He needed to forget about the nightmare Marco created and give his full attention to the “little lady” at the table. But how he would get through the night without talking to Veronica—fuck, would he ever talk to her again?
He slowed as he made his way back to Sofia. He smiled as she wiggled around the chair, humming to herself, folding her cloth napkin into a makeshift swan.
When she looked up with her gap-toothed smile, his heart melted. Every damn time he looked at Sofia, his heart softened. Everything would be okay. It had to be.
Her soft little voice reached out to him, hugging him the way he needed. “Is everything okay, Papa?”
He scooted his chair closer and sat down. “Si, everything is fine, princesa. Did you decide what you want to eat?”
New York Minute Page 14