by LK Farlow
Mateo pulls him in closer instead. “Apologize.”
“What?”
He yanks him closer still, bringing most of Cliff’s body over the counter. “You heard me.”
“Sorry. I’m sorry.”
My knight in coveralls shoves him back, smirking as he stumbles before finding his feet. “Don’t ever come back here. Your friends either.”
Cliff practically runs out of the shop. As soon as the door shuts, Mateo’s out from behind the counter.
“Danton!” he yells, and the younger mechanic rolls out from beneath the car he’s servicing. “Come watch the front.”
“Got it.”
Mateo wraps an arm around my shoulders and ushers me toward the office. Before I can process it, he has us in the office with the door locked and his arms around me, holding me close.
Under different circumstances, I’d appreciate his smooth moves, but I’m currently stuck in a weird state of déjà vu.
“Why was he so familiar?”
I don’t realize I’m crying until the wobbliness of my voice hits me.
Ever so softly, Mateo pulls away and wipes my tears. “You really don’t know?”
I shake my head.
“Take a seat,” he says, pulling out a chair and helping me into it. I expect him to grab the chair on the other side of the desk for his own use, but instead he surprises me and drops to his knees in front of me.
“He was one of the cabrónes—bastards—from the fair.”
“Oh,” I whisper, as memories of that night and what could have been, assault my mind. I can’t help but wonder if he sought me out or if him showing up here was simply happenstance. The uncertainty has my palms sweaty and my stomach churning.
As though he can read me like a book, Mateo pulls me from the chair and onto his lap. “I will never let him hurt you, mariposita. I will never let anyone hurt you. Never again.”
I want to wrap myself in his promises and wear them like a protective cloak. But deep down, I know they’re only words. “You don’t owe me anything. You don’t need to pro—”
Mateo’s lips land on mine, silencing me. The kiss is so unexpected, I gasp, giving him immediate entry. Our tongues swirl together in an agonizingly chaste dance before I pull away.
“What was that?” I exhale the words as I lick my own lips in an effort to savor his taste.
“You… I cannot resist you. Not always.”
His confession leaves me equal parts flattered and annoyed. I decide to cut him a break and change the subject. “Seriously, though, thank you. The way you stepped in and protected me. You seem to keep saving me.”
He grins. “I know a way you can make it up to me.”
I climb off of his lap and stand before extending a hand down to him, as if I can actually help him up. “How’s that?”
“By actually coming to a family dinner tonight.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
With his eyes cast downward, Mateo scratches the back of his head. “My family is having a celebration dinner for me tonight. Please come.”
“Oh.” I shake my head. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
He laughs ruefully. “Would it sound crazy if I said your attendance was mandatory?”
“Says who?”
“My mother.”
“Your… mother?” Why on earth would his mother want me at a family dinner?
“Yes. And trust me when I say, it is easier to give in to her than to fight it.”
I stare at Mateo without really looking at him, lost in thought over the strangeness of the day.
“Please?” he asks, taking my hands in his.
It’s that single word that seals my fate. “Sure. What time?”
Chapter Sixteen
Seraphine
“What does one wear to a family dinner?” I ask Magnolia, my phone pressed to my ear as I rifle through my closet.
She sighs wistfully. “I can’t believe he invited you to meet his family.”
“Technically, his mother did. And I already know his family—well, his siblings.”
“That means she wants to meet you.” Another soft sigh. “How romantic.”
“I’m not so sure about that. Which is why I need to know what to wear, Mags!”
My cousin laughs. “Okay, let me switch the call to video.”
Together, we narrow it down to a pair of boyfriend-cut jeans paired with a black camisole and a chunky gray cardigan.
“Wear your hair down.”
“Got it. I’ll call you—”
“Oh! And that necklace Myla Rose gave you last year for Christmas!”
“Okay. I’ll call you—”
“And be sure to smile!”
“Magnolia! If I don’t get in the shower, I won’t be going at all.”
“Sorry. I’m excited for you is all.”
I shrug. “It’s just dinner. We’ll talk later tonight.”
After we finally say our goodbyes, I fly through getting ready, opting for soft waves and a subtle makeup look.
I pass Mateo’s house on the drive over and can’t help but recall how waking up in his bed made me feel. Even after such a terrible night, being cocooned in his sheets and surrounded by his scent, was heaven.
His mother’s house is a modest-sized craftsman style bungalow. The driveway, as well as the street in front of the house, is full with cars, so I park on the opposite side of the road.
Apprehension bubbles in my belly as I climb the steps and approach the door. My limbs feel lead-weighted and my lungs struggle to push air through. Oh, God, why am I here?
I should go.
I’ll text Mateo and tell him something came up.
I need to go.
On shaky feet, I pivot to head back down the stairs. But the sound of the door opening has me frozen on the spot.
“Mariposita.” Mateo’s voice wraps around me, settling my nerves in a way nothing else can. “Where are you going?”
“Oh, uh,” I stammer. “To get my phone from the car. I left it.”
He eyes me curiously. “Go on then. I’ll wait.”
Swallowing roughly, I nod before dashing across the street to my car. I pretend to look for my phone—which is nestled safely in my bag—before sliding it out and holding it up in faux-success.
I feel slightly calmer as I head back to Mateo. I wave my phone at him before slipping it back into my bag.
His eyes crinkle at the corners, like he knows I’m full of shit. Thankfully, he doesn’t call me on it. “Dinner is almost ready.”
“Oh, great. I’m starving,” I lie, knowing full and well I probably won’t be able to eat a bite.
Twining his fingers with mine, Mateo pulls me into the house after him.
“Is she here?” comes an accented yell from somewhere deeper in the home.
“Sí, Mamá,” Mateo replies, casting a wry grin my way.
A sudden bout of nerves sends my body to a jerking halt, as if my feet are encased in cement. The force of my stop causes Mateo to relinquish his hold on my hand, which only amplifies my anxiety.
“Seraphine,” he says as he spins toward me; whatever look he sees on my face has him stepping into my space and holding me close. “Do not be nervous. My siblings already love you; Desi, too. My mother has heard so much about you, she feels like you’re family already.”
My breaths come in short, rapid puffs. I try to regulate my breathing, but I can’t seem to drag in enough oxygen.
“Hey, hey, shh.” Mateo rubs my back. “Breathe in with me.” He inhales, guiding me, and together we exhale. “Just breathe and let things happen.”
The sound of muffled footsteps followed by a small gasp has us breaking apart.
“Mamá, meet Seraphine,” Mateo says. “Seraphine, this is my mother, Leticia.”
“Qué bendicion—what a blessing.” His mom’s voice and smile equally warm and inviting, as she approaches me with open arms.
“It’s nice to meet you, Leticia,” I say,
holding out my hand for her to shake.
She bypasses it, going straight for a tight embrace. She smells like spices and motherly love—if such a scent exists. As she pulls away, she presses a kiss to each of my cheeks. “No, no-no. You will call me Lety.”
Unexpected emotions well up within me. For this woman, who doesn’t know me from a stranger off the street to be so kind and accepting, it’s almost more than I can comprehend.
“Lety; okay, it’s nice to meet you.”
She pats my cheek tenderly and nods once. “Let us eat.”
The delicious scents clinging to Lety grow stronger as she leads us through the house and into the kitchen. On the long island is a spread unlike any other I’ve ever seen. Platter after platter of food sits there, the wafting steam practically calling my name.
I’m so entranced by the buffet before me, I don’t notice Desi approaching until she’s hugging me. “Seraphine!” She rocks us back and forth. “You came! You’re really here?”
I can’t put my finger on it, but her words feel like they have a double meaning and I’m only privy to one of them.
“I am.”
“Menos Mal—thank God you’re here,” Silvi says, bypassing me. “We can finally eat.”
Even though her tone is cool, my eyes widen and my hands tremor at her words. “Am I late?” I ask, already berating myself for not getting here sooner. “Ma-Mateo said—”
Glaring at his sister, Mateo cuts me off. “You’re right on time. Silvi gets hangry is all. Ignore her. Everyone else does.”
Silvi sticks her tongue out at her brother. “Don’t ignore me, ignore that idiota.”
Arrón struts into the kitchen with a smile on his face. “Ignore them both,” he says as he passes me a plate.
I thank him and step up to the bar, only for Mateo to take my plate. “You sit, I’ll handle this.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, go.”
Lety interlocks her arm with mine and directs me to a large oak dining table. She takes the head of the table and places me to her right.
“Tell me about you,” she says, her gaze never wavering.
“Um. I’ve lived here my entire life. I’m almost twenty-one. I like reading, cars, and makeup. Um…”
Lety waves a hand in the air. “I don’t want facts and figures. I want to know you.”
A beat of silence passes between us before I confess, “I’m not sure what that means.”
“I want to know your heart. Your soul.”
I have no idea how to give her what she’s wanting. My confusion must be as clear as day on my face because eventually she sighs and pats my hand. “In time, then.”
I’m saved from answering her by Silvi and Desi walking in. Silvi claims the chair catty-corner from me and Desi the one across from me. The food on their plates looks as good as it smells.
Arrón and Mateo follow shortly after, carrying two plates each. Arrón places one in front of Lety before rounding the table, leaving the spot beside from me open for Mateo.
He places a heaping plate down in front of me and after Lety leads us in a prayer, he begins explaining the contents of my plate to me and forking up little bites of each for me to taste.
Each bite is better than the last, and if his family finds it weird for him to feed me, no one says anything. In fact, the conversation flows so freely, I hardly give it a second thought either.
After tasting a bite of each, my favorite dish, or guisado, as Mateo calls it, is hands down the tostadas de tinga. The toasted corn tortilla—from scratch—is mind-blowing on its own—seriously, I don’t know how I’ll ever eat a tortilla from a bag again—but when you add the refried beans and chicken, which is smoky with the exact right amount of heat, it’s nearly a religious experience.
“Lety, your food, it’s amazing.”
She beams at my praise. “We will make you some to take home.”
“If there’s any left,” Arrón murmurs from his end of the table, sounding full and a little sleepy.
“But first, dessert.”
Desi whips around to face her grandmother. “Did you make pastel?”
“No, arroz con leche.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“A damn treat,” Mateo whispers in my ear, but somehow Lety hears him and scolds him for cussing at her dinner table.
As punishment, Lety has him plate out dessert for us.
“Oh, it’s like rice pudding,” I say when he places a small bowl before me.
“Except better,” Desi gushes, spooning up a mouthful.
I take a bite and moan happily as the flavor bursts on my tongue. I happily eat bite after bite until I’m nearly bursting at the seams, I’m so full.
Everyone is chattering quietly until Lety loudly addresses me. “Tell me, Seraphine, do you want children?”
I choke on my sip of water; add to that, it’s quiet enough to hear a pin drop, and I’m thoroughly mortified.
“Ch-children?” I ask between gasping breaths.
She nods primly. “Desi needs a sibling. A boy would be nice. I’ve always loved the name Javier.”
Mateo pushes back from the table. “Mamá, deja de decir nombres para mi bebé inexistente.”
“What?” I ask, utterly lost.
Desi leans over and whispers, “He told her to stop trying to name y’all’s nonexistent baby.”
“Ours?” I’ve apparently been reduced to single-word replies.
“Well, who else?” Lety asks, humor lacing her tone.
“I already told you,” Mateo says. “We’re not together.”
Ouch, I think to myself, even though it’s the truth.
His mother, though, isn’t having it. “Not yet. Terco.” She shakes her head. “You’re both stubborn.”
I look around the room, hoping Desi or one of his siblings will take our side, but none of them speak up. Talk about an awkward end to a great evening.
“I’ve already explained this to you,” Mateo insists.
His mother stares him down. “And I told you to search your heart.”
I scoot my chair back from the table and stand. “I think… I’m going to go. It was so nice to meet you, Lety. Thank you for a wonderful dinner.” I’m already speed-walking toward the door.
“Seraphine!” Mateo yells after me.
“See you tomorrow. Thanks. Again.” I swing the door open and make my escape.
Chapter Seventeen
Mateo
My mother’s words after Seraphine fled last night have been on instant replay in my mind. ‘You make this right, Mate!’ Like I’m the one who sent her running with talks of pregnancy and baby names.
Crazier still—my entire family sided with her. Even Desi. Aren’t teen girls supposed to be stepmom averse?
They’re right though—just not in the way they think. I need to make sure Seraphine understands that while my family is crazy, I am not.
The question is how?
Truthfully, I don’t have a clue. She ignored my phone call and texts last night. But maybe breakfast this morning will soften her up toward me?
With a sort-of plan in place, I hop into my truck, grab some breakfast sandwiches, and head to the shop.
Seraphine isn’t supposed to be here until eight, but I still find myself obsessively watching the clock. At five ‘til, there’s a knock and my heart soars, thinking it’s her.
“‘Morning, boss man,” Danton says when I unlock the door and let him in.
I grunt in reply, retreating back behind the counter.
“Who pissed in your cornflakes?” Rodger asks, walking in behind Danton.
“Lady troubles?” the younger man asks.
Another grunt.
“That’s a yes then.” He pauses and sniffs the air. “Do I smell sausage?”
“Yes, but it’s not for you.”
Rodger and Danton exchange knowing glances, while I yet again check the clock. It’s five after.
Maybe she’s in traffic?
The thought’s laughable. Dogwood doesn’t have traffic. Not unless you end up behind a tractor.
I try to keep busy, booting up the computer and printing tickets for the day, but it’s no use. My eyes keep wandering to the clock.
By fifteen after, I’m pacing the length of the shop. “Where is she?” I mumble under my breath, calling her for the second time this morning.
When I’m once again sent to voice mail, I’ve had enough. “Rodger!” I yell, and his head pops up from beneath the hood of the car he’s working on. “Watch the shop!”
“Where ya going?” Danton asks, like it’s any of his business.
“Out.”
“Eyes on your own engine,” Rodger commands the younger mechanic before refocusing his attention on me. “Go get her.”
“Huh? Who?”
He glares. “You know who.”
I don’t know why, maybe because I hate the thought of being so transparent, but I play dumb and give him a puzzled look.
Like the old badass he is, Rodger calls me on my shit. “We’ve got this covered. Go fix whatever you messed up with Seraphine.” He emphasizes her name.
“I… what… how?”
“You don’t get to be my age without picking up a little wisdom along the way.” He herds me toward the door. “Now, go fix it.”
“And leave the food!” Danton calls from one of the bays.
Rodger nods his agreement.
Not wanting to waste another second, I’m out the door, in my truck, and on my way to her.
I make it to her place in record time, sighing with relief when I see her RAV4 in the driveway. At least now, I know she’s here and not stranded on the side of the road somewhere.
My relief quickly gives way to frustration though. Her being here means she’s intentionally avoiding me. And that won’t do.
Before I can formulate a plan, I’m out of my truck, up the porch steps, and banging on her front door. “I know you’re here!” I holler, a sense of déjà vu overwhelming me.
I’m prepared to hunt down the spare key—again—when the door flies open, revealing a very distressed looking Seraphine.
“Why are you here?” she asks right as I ask, “Are you okay?”