The smell of perfectly seasoned meat combined with soft fresh corn dough is enough to distract me, so I grab a plate and start piling on food, starting with my own empanadas because I need the taste of home right now. The first bite is simply delicious, and pride fills my chest. Another one and I’m hit with a flood of memories and emotions, equal parts wonderful and heartbreaking. I remember laughter at the dinner table. My sisters giggling and sneaking bites of empanadas before they’re ready. Mamá shooing them away from the oven with an exasperated grin. My dad coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.
“Your mamá makes the best empanadas in the world, don’t you ever forget it,” my dad would say every time, like clockwork, and we’d all chime in with our agreement.
What would she think of all this if she were here? No doubt in my mind she’d love Inara. But what about Apá? Would my mother be okay with the way I’d cut him out? The way I’ve included my teammates on important decisions in my life, yet I hadn’t even returned his phone call from earlier today?
Grief and shame mix below the surface for an instant. Then more memories flood my brain, and the remorse turns to resentment. Because after the good times, came the times when my mother grew too weak to make empanadas by herself, so I would assemble them while she directed me from a chair, her bony frame looking frail. Her once-boisterous voice thin and her cheeks pale. Then one day she was no longer there at all. Her vivid, beautiful presence, just gone, leaving the once-warm kitchen cold and empty. And when she disappeared, my dad did too. I didn’t lose one parent the day Mamá died. I lost two. My dad abandoned us emotionally, right when I needed him most.
The familiar anger is a comfort as it chases away my regret. In this moment, reliving all the trauma of the past, I’m grateful I never committed to my dad’s harebrained idea when he first called about the fundraiser. I’m still not ready to deal with his desertion. Not now. Not today. Maybe never. Only time will tell.
I scan the area until my gaze falls on Inara and, the second she turns and smiles at me, something in my chest loosens. I bathe in the relief that washes over me for several long moments before the reality of my actions hits me, causing my lungs to compress again. When did I become so reliant on her? Start looking to her for reassurance? Because getting too comfortable in this relationship is dangerous. Good things never last.
I shake off the unsettling feeling, telling myself I’m making a mountain out of a molehill. Yeah, I felt a boost in my mood when Inara smiled at me, so what? That doesn’t mean I’m getting too attached. My wife is hotter than hell, and I’d challenge any red-blooded man to stand in my shoes and not feel the same way. We’re talking empanadas here. Not a lifelong commitment. But enough of that. Today, with my friends around me, with my chosen family who have never abandoned me in my time of need, with my wife, I choose to focus on this—my mom would be so damn proud of these empanadas.
I push away the uncomfortable idea she might not be proud of other things and instead focus on a squirrel that scurries down a nearby tree trunk, his nose twitching. Even the wildlife knows these empanadas are something special.
I catch Inara’s gaze on me and smile a “thank you” I hope she can read in my expression. Then I wink at her as I lift my plate because it’s time for sentiment to be over and ass-kicking to start. “You ready to find out what a real empanada tastes like?”
“You ready to taste defeat?” Inara gestures to her own plate.
Marge and Taya are breaking into my ground-beef ones and I smile as the steam rises when they crack them open, the dough crumbling a tiny bit. Taya closes her eyes as she swallows and practically moans. “These are so good.”
Bear just picks up his empanada and shoves the whole thing into his mouth. So much for savoring his food. When I turn to Inara, she grabs one of my empanadas from the tray and bites into it. Her eyes close as she chews slowly, as if she’s savoring every last ingredient, and a small sigh escapes her mouth.
Hell fuckin’ yeah. I won for sure.
My focus returns to the judges as Marge bites into one of Inara’s empanadas, then reaches for her water and takes a big gulp. “This is a bit spicy but also so good.”
Jim breaks into a coughing fit, his face turning red as he reaches for his own water. “Fucking Christ, Inara. What the hell did you put in this?”
Inara snorts. “Not my fault you can’t handle spicy.”
I grab one of her empanadas and bite into it. The chicken is juicy and soft. The salsa is cooked down into a chunky sauce with bites of habanero. The heat is rounded out by the masa. I shove the rest into my mouth. “Damn, Inara. This is good.”
Everyone continues to pile food into their mouths as they chat among themselves, discussing who to vote for. Some, like Taya and Craiger, are more adventurous and are eating Inara’s empanadas, while others like Jim are playing it safe and sticking to mine. Once the votes are tallied, Taya stands. “And the winner is . . . Tony!”
Inara rushes over and gives me a tight squeeze and kisses me on the cheek. “Congrats. They were really good.”
Inara and I head up to the designated food table by the grills and grab some ice cream and a bottled water before settling down on an empty bench. She shovels a big spoonful of chocolate into her mouth, leaving a smudge on her upper lip. Just one more reason to keep her. After a moment of fidgeting with her treat, she straightens and turns to me. “I have to talk to you.”
“Uh-oh, sounds serious. Did I leave the toilet seat up again?” I’m in such a good mood right now. The sun is shining, and I’m outdoors, eating great food with my best friends. If Inara has a little gripe she needs to get off her chest, now is the perfect time. There’s nothing she can say right now that will bring me down.
She avoids my gaze and bites the corner of her lower lip. “Your dad called while you were in the shower the other day and I answered because I thought it might be an emergency. It wasn’t, don’t worry.”
My shoulders tense and I swallow hard. “And?”
“I, uh, kind of let the cat out of the bag. About the two of us being married.”
Air rushes from my lungs. “Did you ever stop to think there might be a reason I hadn’t told him yet?”
I run my palms down my face trying to process the information. Apá is undoubtedly hurt I haven’t told him about my wife. And God himself only knows the wrath I will incur from my sisters. I probably should have told my family, but ultimately, that’s my choice. My life. Not hers. A big part of the reason I didn’t tell them about Inara was because I knew they’d jump on the excuse to ramp up their calls. Or worse, try to enlist Inara to help reconnect the family. Hopefully, my wife would never do something like that behind my back.
An image of Inara laughing in the kitchen surrounded by my dad and sisters fills my head, causing my pulse to skyrocket as my teeth to grind together. It’s maddening the way she’s pushed past my boundaries like this.
She wraps her arms around her waist and drops her gaze to the ground. “He caught me off guard.”
“I don’t talk to him much. Haven’t for a long time. But whatever, it’s not that big of a deal. I was going to have to tell him sometime. Now, my sisters on the other hand . . . I may just leave you to fend them off yourself.” With effort, I reach out and tweak the tip of her nose, attempting to let my frustration go.
She giggles, then turns and places a hand against my chest. “That’s not all. He told me you haven’t been returning his calls about the fundraiser. I agreed that we’d help him host it here, at Shaken & Stirred.”
I stare at her, uncomprehending at first. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that? You did what exactly?”
She sets her ice cream cup aside and moves her hand on my arm. “I agreed to help your dad set up his Zumba fundraiser.”
My throat constricts, making it difficult to swallow or breathe. What would Mamá think of you now? a sneaky little voice in my head asks. When your new wife, the one you didn’t even tell your dad about, talks
to your dad more than you do?
That’s just it. I don’t want Inara talking to my dad. Not a little, not at all. She needs to worry about her own family and leave mine alone. The anger that I’d just managed to push away comes roaring back. It’s one thing to answer my phone, and another to tell my dad we’re married, but what the hell is with this conspiracy crap? “You guys are planning shit behind my back?”
“I was only trying to help. He sounded so excited and proud. He really wants you to be a part of it. And I think it would be good for you, a way to help heal. I’ll support you however you need me to.”
Her voice is so careful, so sympathetic. Like the way my teachers used to speak to me when I’d act out in class after my mother died. Like she thinks I’m a little kid. What. The. Fuck. I don’t need her pity, and I sure as hell don’t need her interfering with my family. “Heal? I’m not a patient in a hospital. I don’t need to heal. And support, really? That’s what you call blindsiding me with this?”
My body goes cold, yet at the same time, a fire burns in my chest. She said heal. HEAL. Like there’s something wrong with me. Something broken that needs fixing. Which is bullshit. I don’t need to heal. What I need is for her to quit inserting herself into my life, like she’s here to stay. Because she’s not.
I want to howl. Scream. Instead, I swallow and clench my jaw so tight my molars might crack from the pressure. This is my fault. From the start, I knew better than to put my hopes into a long-term relationship. I grab the water bottle and take a long swig in an effort to keep my anger under control, but it’s in vain. “This whole thing was a mistake.”
She winces and places a hand on my forearm as I stand up. “I’m so sorry, you’re right. I should have talked to you first. Your dad seemed so nice though, and I got caught up in the moment. I made a mistake.”
I jerk my arm away from her, hating the feel of her skin on mine right now. “No, not just this time, this whole thing. It was a mistake to ever talk to my dad in the first place. A mistake for you to answer my phone and stick your nose in my personal business, to try to worm your way into my life permanently. A mistake to think this could ever work between us. But the biggest mistake in my life? That was the day I signed up to join this stupid program.”
Tears gather in the corners of Inara’s eyes. “Tony, please. I know you’re upset, but we can work through this. I want to be with you. And not just for a year, but after that as well. I want to grow old with you.”
“You only want me because you can’t afford your goddamn rent anymore. Which is fine. Hell, it’s better than the reasons I signed up for IPP, which by the way was because I had a momentary lapse of sanity when I was lonely and feeling sorry for myself. Not because I lost a card game. And at least be honest about how you’re using me—the same way I’m using you to get into OCS.”
She rears back as if I’d slapped her. Her face drains of color and her lower lip trembles. Tears streak down her face. Somewhere, beneath the ugly storm of emotions assaulting me, regret twists in my heart. But then she wipes her face quickly and looks at something over my shoulder. Someone clears their throat, and I spin around.
Fuck me.
Of course, Redding just had to show up at that very moment. And next to him is one of the IPP program committee members from my original interview. And just like that, my chances at getting into OCS are shot straight to hell, along with the rest of my career.
Biggest fucking mistake ever.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Inara
I reach into my purse and fumble around as I hurry toward the parking lot, trying not to let any more tears fall. Finally, my hand brushes against my phone’s protective case and I pull it out to open the Uber app. When Tony had been pulled away by his commanding officer, I jumped up and left. No need to stick around for the sympathetic glances from our friends. Thankfully, there’s an Uber driver close by and I track their route, only having to wait two minutes for them to arrive.
The driver isn’t one of the more social ones and I’m grateful for the silence. Everything passes by in a blur outside the window, my heart heavy with Tony’s admission. Leaning my head back, I close my eyes. I try to force back the tears threatening to fall and inhale the salty breeze rolling in through the open window, forcing myself to swallow past the giant lump in my throat.
The driver arrives at my house and I get out, standing on the sidewalk as if Medusa turned me into a stone statue. How I wish I were like the sun in the sky, hiding behind clouds so no one can see me. Every nerve in my body begins firing off. Normally, anxiety isn’t a problem for me, but after seeing Redding’s face, after the meeting he demanded Tony attend, I’m not sure what to expect when my husband gets home. Even before Redding showed up, the security of my marriage was in jeopardy. So, I do what any person in my circumstances would do . . . walk the handful of blocks to my mother’s house.
My sanity has definitely left the building, but I don’t know what else to do.
Mami opens the door immediately. “Inara, what’s wrong.”
“Something bad happened with Tony. Something that might end our marriage.” Then I can’t say anything else because I’m bawling.
Mami pulls me into her arms and rubs my back as she embraces me. “There, there, mi hija. It can’t be as bad as all that.”
When I calm down a little, she ushers me inside, and into the kitchen. As I sit at the kitchen table, she heads to the stove, turning it on and placing a teakettle on the burner. She hands me a box of Kleenex and I blow my nose. My fingers drum against the plastic tablecloth as she scoops tea leaves into a strainer. God, how did this all go so wrong? And what am I going to do? Tony could lose his chance at Officer Candidate School, all because I stupidly stuck my nose where it didn’t belong. And I’d lost my chance at a lasting marriage.
Who am I kidding? Based on what Tony said, we never had a chance to work. No matter what his actions had led me to believe, he’d never had any intentions of taking us seriously. He was only in it for his job.
But where did he get off telling me that I was only in it for the money? That’s not why I signed up. I didn’t even find out about the increase in rent until after I joined the program. Having someone else to be able to split the rent with me was a last-minute perk. But it’s not the reason I want to stay with Tony.
I want to be with him because of the way he cares for others. Because of the way he makes me scream in ecstasy. And because I’ve fallen in love with him.
I love my husband. I love Tony.
But the revelation doesn’t offer comfort. Or joy. I’m not jumping on Mami’s couch. Not after what just happened. Instead, my heart only aches more because by overstepping I’ve not only thrown a lit match on our relationship, but dumped a gallon of gasoline. All unintentionally. Mami joins me at the table as the water for tea heats and places her hand on top of mine. “Do you want to talk to me about it?”
“The short version—I interfered with his family and Tony blew up about it in front of his boss.”
Mami pats my hand. “I’m sorry, mi hija. Marriage is hell sometimes. Why do you think I had to start over so much?”
Great. Not exactly the pep talk I’d been hoping for. Then again, what did I expect? Maybe my mom was right all along. Maybe some people just weren’t made for the long haul.
I sigh and place my elbows on the table, resting my face in my palms. More like hiding behind my hands. My body aches and the hollowness in my chest keeps growing. So wild how quickly things can change in a matter of seconds.
The kettle whistles and Mami stands, a moment later returning with two cups of tea. The jasmine aroma floats up from the steaming liquid, filling my nose as I wrap my hands around the fine china, enjoying the warmth seeping through the cup.
Mami sits and sips at her tea. When she returns her cup to its small saucer, she meets my gaze. “I think Tony is a great man. But I just don’t know if he is the one for you.”
My head jerks up, my mouth hanging
open. What the hell did she just say? The woman has been looking to marry me off for years and now she’s backpedaling. After the shock of her words dissipates, I sit straight and cross my arms. “Care to elaborate?”
She looks down and spins her teacup. But a second later, she glances around the room and waves her hand toward a shelf full of pictures from her numerous weddings. “Then again, what do I know?”
She’s been through four marriages. None of them lasted long because she always found some problem. My mother worked full time, made dinner most nights, and took me to all my after-school activities and church. But anytime someone would step in to help—like one of my stepdads—she would always start a fight, needing to prove she could handle everything on her own.
Of course, sometimes the problems were more valid, like with the man she married around the time I was in the fourth grade. She met him at church. He was so devoted to religion and family life, but she wasn’t as driven by religion as he was, so she ended up closing herself off. That marriage ended in less than a year.
And then there was Bennett, the longest relationship my mother was in. He was the only one she dated for a good two years before they actually got engaged. They met when I was entering junior high, a rough time for me. Bennett was the perfect father figure, helping me discover ways to express my passions. Like when I lacked self-confidence, he signed us up for a family karate workshop. Anytime I had friend troubles at school, he was willing to listen, even if it was petty drama. Bennett was the only real father I’d had in my life. And for a while, things between him and my mom were great. Until they were over as well.
And now, here I am. Apparently doomed to follow in my mom’s footsteps. I’d be seriously depressed right now if I weren’t still reeling from the pain of Tony’s harsh words at the park.
We stand and I hand her the mug. “Thank you for the tea.”
She offers a weak smile as she takes it. “I have faith in you, Inara. You’re much stronger than me.”
Matched (Navy Seals of Little Creek Book 2) Page 19