by Lexi Scott
“They won’t let her back in if you don’t,” I say, then get up and hold my hand out.
Walshe stares at it like he doesn’t know what to do. Finally, he puts the pamphlets on the arm of his dirty recliner and shakes my hand, his overlong fingernails biting into my skin.
“Well, I’ll think about it, Carmen,” he says.
I swallow back the urge to throttle him. Also, what the hell is so complicated about my damn name?
“Think fast,” I say. “Part of Maren’s deal is that she’ll live on campus and take a work study job. The rent on this place is paid through the next three weeks, and then you’re out.”
I enjoy the look of panic in his eyes. I’m not a total asshole, but he’s been making Maren squirm and worry for years. He needs to man up and get his ass in gear, and I’m not above enjoying the show while he does.
Even Maren doesn’t know this next piece of the plan to get her life jumpstarted. I owe Cece big time for setting things up, which probably means being the male guinea pig for a bunch of terrible gender studies and interviews.
Whatever it takes, even if it means mainlining nights of feminist slam poetry. I’ll do it for Maren.
I’d do anything for Maren.
I turn to leave, and he’s already pouring another glass, the neck of the bottle smashing on the side of the rim.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Maren
“It’s going to be fine,” Cohen says, his big, safe hand clutching at mine as we walk up the driveway to his mom’s house. “More than fine. They already love you.”
“They ‘work’ love me. I’m a freaking amazing employee, Cohen, and there’s no doubt that I’m an asset to them, but that doesn’t mean they want me seeing their son.” It still gives me a little thrill when I realize I’m actually, officially dating Cohen Rodriguez.
He wasn’t there when I woke up this morning, but he came back with breakfast burritos, a huge smile, and a hungry look in his eyes I couldn’t resist. Then he had his very, very wicked way with me and convinced me to meet his parents— I guess I was so smitten I forgot to be cautiously nervous. I said yes.
Things are moving fast, but maybe that’s okay. I have to make up for lost time, and I don’t want to waste another second I could spend with Cohen.
“You know what I think about your assets,” he says, raising a dark eyebrow and patting my bum. I lean into him and hope he’s telling the truth. That this is going to be a good day. No complications. But I can’t help but feel nervous about meeting his entire family in one place. “Anyway, Deo and Whit will be here, and they’ll like you for sure. It’ll make up for the sharks that my sisters can be.”
“Cohen!” I swat as his arm with a pleading expression. “You’re not helping.”
“I don’t get why you’re so worried. It’s just my family. You’ve already met some of them. What’s the problem?” We stop on the porch that’s full of plants near death and a massive stone religious statue that I don’t recognize.
I want to explain that I know he’s never brought anyone here but Kensley, and how can I replace her? That sisters never like me. That his family is so close I feel like an intruder. I open my mouth to speak, but he pulls me close and covers my mouth with his. His tongue silences me with its gentle path along the inside of my mouth.
He pulls away, taps my nose with his fingertip, and says, “You’re beautiful. It’s going to be great.” Cohen’s adorable, sexy wink makes everything okay in a more personal way than his laugh used to on the other end of the phone. “Ready to get your mexi-kosher on?”
As soon as we walk through the door, it’s pure chaos. Chaos that smells like heaven. There are people everywhere, dishes full of delicious-smelling food on almost every surface.
“This isn’t all for me, is it?” I lean in and whisper to Cohen.
“You’re a big deal. But no, this is every damn week.”
Something in me shifts. I feel enveloped in this warmth. I feel…welcomed. I want this. Every damn week, I want to feel this buzz of love and family. I swallow hard and close my eyes.
You deserve to be surrounded by love.
In the kitchen, a woman with dark, glossy hair leans over the counter to set out yet another dish and catches my eye. I recognize her from photos on the company website. Mrs. Rodriguez, Cohen’s mom. I’ve met his dad before, but never his mother, and I feel a prickle of nerves.
“Maren?” she says, rounding the corner into the living room. She and Cohen share the same nose, down to the adorable little curve in the bone in the middle. She smiles broadly, and it feels like this is actually going to be okay based on that look alone. Mrs. Rodriguez clutches at me, and it’s warm, welcoming, and feels like family should. My God, I didn’t realize how starved I’ve been for family. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. I can’t believe it’s taken this long. How long have you worked for us?”
“Ma, she’s not here as an employee,” Cohen says, wrapping a protective, sturdy arm around my waist.
Mrs. Rodriguez pulls the dishtowel that’s slung over her shoulder and swats at Cohen with it. “I know that. I just meant—oh, never mind. Maren knows what I meant.”
I nod politely, smiling like a fool. “It’s really nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Rodriguez.”
“Oh, please, call me Dinah.”
“And call me Daddy,” a male voice pipes in at the same time I feel his arm slip around me and shove Cohen’s away.
“Deo, don’t start off being an asshole,” Cohen says, shaking his head. “Maren, you remember Deo.”
“How can she forget a legend?” he asks.
Cohen rolls his eyes. “Apparently I wasn’t the smartest little kid. I picked this one pretty much before we could walk and haven’t been able to ditch him since.”
“Please. I have the legs of a Rockette. You’d miss them if you ever left me,” Deo says, pulling his board shorts up to expose his lean, tan legs.
I laugh out loud. I love how he jokes and loosens up the straight lines of Cohen. I love how in the two minutes since I’ve seen him here, I already know that Deo is just as much Cohen’s family as the rest of the Rodriguez clan. I want to believe it’s like a sneak peek of my future with the Rodriguez family.
Who, I realize suddenly, all have their eyes set on me.
I channel my panic into smiling widely at Deo as he keeps speaking. “And I think you met her for like two seconds on the beach, but let’s make it official. This is my much, much better half, Whit.”
He pulls the gorgeous girl with serious eyes but an easy smile to his side.
“Hi, officially,” Whit says, ducking out from under Deo’s arm and giving me a small wave. “I’m so glad you came. Deo’s been chomping at the bit to see the new girl Cohen’s been laying pipe with go through a Rodriguez dinner.”
I can feel myself turning a shade of red that matches the paint on the accent wall as Cohen reaches over to intertwine his fingers with mine, steadying me.
“Whit, really?” Deo says, grinning. “Exposing our classlessness at her first family dinner? You’ve been hanging out with my mother way too much lately. That’s as clear as the awful sex euphemisms in your normal conversations. Apologies, Maren.”
“Sorry, Maren, but if you hang out with us jerks long enough, you’ll see that’s just the way we are.” Whit shrugs and gives me a friendly wink. “And also, I’m so, so glad you fell for Cohen instead of the guy on your blind date. And we really, really are glad you’re here.”
My face hurts from smiling. “I’m glad, too. For all of those things.”
“Table! Food’s getting cold,” Mrs. Rodriguez calls.
The rest of Cohen’s family is charming. I’ve met Genevieve once before, Cece is a doll, exactly the way Cohen described her and someone who I’d love to get to know better, and Lydia I think will be a completely decent human being once she gets laid. She’s polite, but sort of resembles that damn grumpy cat hating life on all of those internet memes.
The food is
delicious. Carnitas and rice and all sorts of things I didn’t even know could be made kosher.
“Maren, I wanted to thank you for the excellent order of the rugs last week. We sold every one of them and still had additional orders after sell-out. Incredible,” Cohen’s dad says.
I love how the two of them look side-by-side. Cohen is a taller, younger version of his dad without the neatly combed black moustache.
“You’re so welcome. I’m glad I could help.” I can hardly chew around my smile.
“Pop, let’s not talk shop, okay?” Cohen sighs and squeezes my knee under the table.
His dad huffs and shakes his head. “I was just saying—”
“I got a promotion!” Lydia interrupts in a squeal. “I’ve been trying to keep the news in until they wrote a press release, because then it’s so much more real, and then Enzo didn’t show again today, but I just couldn’t wait to tell you guys any longer. I made junior partner! Can you believe that? The youngest one in firm history.”
It’s the first time I’ve seen her smile since I’ve been here, and it’s radiant.
“What? When did this happen?” Mrs. Rodriguez asks. She claps her hands to her face, and her eyes fill with tears of pride. Mr. Rodriguez tosses his napkin onto the tabletop, then rounds the table to kiss Lydia on the temple. It’s a beautiful moment. Except for the furtive glances across the table between Cohen and Cece.
I reach under the table and run my palm across his thigh, and he covers my hand with his. Something is up.
“Good job, sis,” Genevieve says.
“Cheers, Lydia,” Whit says, tipping her bottle of Corona back.
“Bust the shit outta that glass ceiling, Lyd,” Deo says with a grin.
“Thank you,” Lydia says, smoothing her hair and setting her face back to what I gather is its usual, slightly miserable expression. “I’m hoping with the extra money I’ll be making, I’ll be able to afford to move back closer to you all. I mean, I didn’t fall into a small fortune, so I probably won’t be able to swing a place on the water like some people, but I hope to still be close.”
I feel Cohen squeeze my hand tighter, but he doesn’t give Lydia the satisfaction of a response to her passive-aggressive dig.
Deo clucks his tongue and wags his finger in Lydia’s direction. “Aw, c’mon, Lyd, don’t be all angry because Cohen and I have mad diving skills. We worked—”
Cohen finally looks up. “Deo, it’s fine. Happy for you, Lydia,” he says, his voice measured and tight.
“Well, I think it’s time I get the desserts, don’t you?” Mrs. Rodriguez says, standing and smoothing the apron that’s tied around her waist.
“Ma, wait just a second. Sit,” Cohen says.
Something is definitely up.
“I’m glad Lydia brought up my good luck, because if it wasn’t for that dive, I wouldn’t be able to live where I do, or drive the car I do, or be able to take care of this woman the way I hope she lets me,” Cohen says. Everyone at the table turns to look my way. An involuntary chill quakes through me at his words. “I especially wouldn’t be able to do any of that if my only income was from the shop.”
“We know that, son. We appreciate your hard work.” Mr. Rodriguez’s words are firm. He means what he says.
“Please, you know I do most of the work.” Genevieve laughs. Cohen shoots her a quick glare, and she straightens her smirk. “I was just kidding, geez.”
“My point is, that money from the dive isn’t going to last forever. And I can’t live the way I want to live, and be who I want to be professionally, working at the store.” Cohen’s jaw is set, and his mouth is just a slice across his face. He’s not enjoying delivering this news.
And I’m pretty much too shocked to react. Rodriguez’s without Cohen?
My throat tightens when I think about what my day-to-day will be like without him.
I glance around the huge oval table and watch the elated smiles that glowed from Lydia’s news melt right off the Rodriguezes’ faces.
“Are you really doing this right now?” I lean in and whisper.
“So, what are you saying? Do you need time off to go on more dives?” Mr. Rodriguez’s voice is tight. It’s crazy how similar their voices are when they’re angry.
Cohen shakes his head. “I’m saying that I have an interview with an accounting firm in L.A. They’d let me telecommute most of the time, the starting salary is amazing, especially considering what the economy is like right now—”
“You don’t have to tell us what the economy is like, Cohen,” his mother says, her voice fluttering. “That’s why you offered to help us in the first place. Because sales aren’t what they used to be and having to hire outside of the family…you just… You have so much. And you’re just going to leave us?”
Cohen stares down at his plate, and then lifts his eyes, his expression determined. “What about Enzo? Why can’t he ever step up?”
Mr. Rodriguez is scary quiet. I’m not even sure he’s breathing. His face is red, his livid eyes trained on Cohen.
“He isn’t qualified like you, Cohen. He wouldn’t know the first thing about how to run our store. That’s our family business you’re talking about. Don’t you care about that?” His mother slaps a palm on the table, and we all jump.
“I know, Ma. I wanted to help, and I think I did. I put a lot of years in, and things are running really well. I’d be happy to stick around and train whoever takes my place. But right now, I need to get my own life straight. It’s just time.” He nods like he’s hoping everyone else will nod along and get what he’s trying to say.
All eyes on the table shift to me again.
Crap.
“I think… I think I should step out,” I say, my voice gasping out like I just finished a sprint.
Cohen clutches my forearm, but I pry his fingers off and storm out the front door without looking at him. I stand on the porch, gripping the railing, gulping down the cool night air in an effort to stay calm.
It’s not easy.
I can’t believe he didn’t warn me about this.
I can’t believe he brought me into this today, knowing how it would go.
I can’t believe he’s been looking for a job and never mentioned it.
He’s been so focused on my dad and me; he never told me how he felt about his own family situation. This whole thing is bullshit, and I feel so blindsided I’m shaking.
“Don’t think that’s because of you in there.” Deo’s voice scares the crap out of me. When I turn, he’s sneaking up behind me and taking a seat on the wicker chair next to the railing
“Deo, thank you for trying, but I’m not an idiot. It’s definitely about me,” I say, tugging the band out of my hair and letting it fall free onto my shoulders. It’s a habit when I’m frustrated. It’s like my equivalent of breaking something. “It’s like he had to prove to me that change is easy because I’m so scared of making it in my own life.” I run my fingers through my hair, feeling shut-down with frustration.
Deo shakes his head and takes a sip from his beer, and I wonder why I’m spilling all this to a virtual stranger.
“Nah, Cohen’s been wanting out of there for a while. You just gave him the push. You gave him the reason.”
“I knew I’d screw things up. I knew I’d just complicate things for him. That family… That family is amazing. They all love each other so much, and now look at them. They’re probably in there screaming because of me.”
I point to the front door of the house that was filled with so much love and happiness. Before Cohen brought me in and dropped his life-changing bombshell. He doesn’t even have a clue what he’s throwing away.
And he has no idea how lonely and full of regret he’s going to be about this. I could tell him all about that. I practically wrote the book on it.
Deo’s laugh breaks through my misery. He shakes his head, his eyes completely crinkled at the sides from smiling so hard.
“Come on, all families fight, right?
Even my hippy-dippy mom rides my ass some days. Trust me, I’ve known the Rodriguezes my entire life. They fight hard. They fight dirty. And yeah, Cohen is probably in there saying things he’ll wish he didn’t tomorrow. But tomorrow, it won’t matter because you’re right. They are tight as hell, and there is not a damn thing in this world that’ll ruin them. Trust me. It’ll blow over.”
Deo’s words are reassuring to a degree, but I still feel a huge knot pitted inside me. “I just feel like it’s my fault.”
Deo waves that off like I’m being crazy. “Cohen is doing this because he wants to. Because he wants you. Dude’s crazy about you. Why do you think he went to talk to your dad? He wants you both to have a fresh start.”
I jerk back and feel my mouth fall open. Are there any other goddamn surprises I need to know about before this hellish evening is over?
Deo lets out a long breath and bangs his head back against the porch railing. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry. I guess you probably didn’t want me to know about your old man. Listen, my lips are sealed. Not even Whit knows, and she’d have to do dirty, dirty things to me to get me to tell her,” Deo says with a wink.
“My dad?” I say, my brain still fuzzy and shell-shocked. “He went to see my dad?”
Deo blinks three times. “Oh. Uh, shit. There goes my big mouth again. Yeah. He did, and I’m sure he has a good reason for not telling you.”
“Like he didn’t tell me he was looking for a new job?” The anger in me is vicious.
My dad. He went to see my dad without talking to me about it? When? Why? What happened? How the hell could he keep this from me?
I had this idea in my head that Cohen was 100 percent “what you see is what you get,” and right now, this instant, I feel like I don’t know a single thing about him. The anger and betrayal is swirling in my stomach, and I just can’t be here anymore.
I start toward the car when Cohen flings the screen door open and comes stomping out.
“Are you ready?” he asks quickly. He already has his car keys in hand.
Deo meets his eyes for a split second, and they must communicate telepathically, because Cohen stops walking down the driveway and looks at me.