We make it inside, where aromas of freshly cooked food wrap all around us. I love when my mom cooks. She cooks for every single holiday, and every meal is delicious.
My parents’ house isn’t huge. It’s a four-bedroom home, with a quaint kitchen and a cozy living room. The furniture is new, though, and I’m glad to see it, because I swear my dad was trying to hold onto the previous furniture for life.
“Will! Honey, Gabby is here!” Mamá yells as she trots to the kitchen.
Kyle shuts the door behind us, and we follow her there. The dining table is off to the left of the kitchen in an open area. The table seats eight, and it’s freshly set with pastel purple and yellow plates and glasses, because it wouldn’t be like my mother to not decorate the table for a holiday.
“Can I get you guys anything to drink?” she offers, standing by the fridge.
“No, I’m quite all right,” Kyle says. “You, Gabs?”
“I’m good, Mamá.” I smile at her. “Thank you.”
“Suit yourself.” She goes to the stove and lifts the lid from one of the pots. Kyle pulls out his cell when it rings and answers it. I walk over to Mamá and see she’s stirring her famous French onion soup.
“That smells so good!” I lean over the pot to breathe in the smells.
“I knew you’d want some when you got here. I even bought a few loaves of the French bread you like.”
“You’re the best.” I kiss her cheek, then turn for the counter to pick up a piece of sliced mango. It feels so good to be home. My favorite part is the fresh fruit. Mamá will drive thirty minutes just to get to the closest farmer’s market and grab some. “When will Ricky be here?”
“He said he was coming tonight with Violetta.” She rolls her eyes and grabs a ladle.
“Ma, be nice,” I giggle, taking another bite of mango.
“It’s hard to be nice! Do you know she asked for a fork when eating my fritanga? Who eats fritanga with a fork?”
I bust out laughing. “She didn’t grow up on it like we did! I think you’re just finding reasons not to like her now.”
“She’s trashy. Don’t care what anyone thinks. She’s only with Ricky because he has a good job and bought her a house. She’s a user.” She picks up a fork and points it at me sternly, like I’m the one in trouble. “You know that your father asked her if she was thinking about having kids, and she said no. No, Gabby! I just…I can’t stand it. We all know Ricky wants babies, and she doesn’t want to have them. They’re not a good match. At least you are considering it!”
“Oh, boy.” I move away, grabbing another piece of mango. She’s upsetting herself, per the norm, and I am not about to get into the discussion of having kids right now.
“Monster, is that you?” A voice booms from the hallway. I look over, and Dad is walking into the kitchen with a big smile and a pair of square-framed glasses on his face. His beard is gone, but he’s kept his peppery mustache. He stands tall—tall enough to touch the ceiling of this house without trying. He opens his arms and I rush right into them.
“Hi Dad,” I sigh on his chest.
“How’s my girl? Missed the hell out of you, you know that?”
“I know—and I’m good. Just glad to be here, seeing you guys.”
“We’re happy to have you.” I pull away and Dad looks all around. “Where’s Kyle?”
“I think he’s outside taking a call. Should be back in a minute.”
“Oh, okay. Well, your room is all set up for you. Changed the bedding last night.”
“Thank you.”
He sits on a chair at the four-top table in the corner of the kitchen—the one they use more than the one in the dining room.
“You look good,” he says, beaming.
“Doesn’t she?” Mom chimes. “I told her I like her with a little meat on her bones!”
Dad chuckles and I sit in the chair beside him, fighting a smile. “How’s everything with you?” I ask.
“Oh—same ol’, same ol’.”
“Is work okay?”
I notice him hesitate, but he continues a smile to cover it up. “Work is…work, I suppose.” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his hawkish nose. “Enough about me. How is that new house of yours? Hilton treating you well?”
I don’t ignore the fact that he’s changing the subject, but I’ve just gotten here. I have time to ask him what’s up.
“The house is great! It’s huge, though. Five bedrooms.”
“Way too many!” Mamá says with a shake of her head. “Unless you two plan on filling those rooms with babies, I don’t understand why there are so many.”
Everything is always about babies with my mom. My Aunt Carolina, her sister, is the same way about them. They figure as soon as a couple is married, they should be trying to get pregnant. I’m not exactly down with that. Not that I don’t want kids, it’s just not the right time to try yet.
“I have a puppy now,” I offer, shifting the subject. I pull my phone out of my back pocket, go to my pictures app and click on one of Callie. “Her name is Callie,” I inform Dad, handing the phone to him. “Like Cammie’s sister. Remember?”
“Oh, yeah. I remember. That’s a nice-looking puppy.”
“Let me see.” Mamá trots over after turning the soup off, taking my phone out of his hand and squinting at the screen. “Oh—she’s adorable!”
“Thanks.”
“Who has her right now?” she asks.
“My neighbor is keeping her for a couple days. I would have brought her with me if we hadn’t flown here. She’s a sweet dog.”
“Did you get her yourself, or did Kyle?” Mom asks, going to the counter and pulling out one of the loaves of bread.
I avoid her eyes when she focuses on me again, but it doesn’t stop my heart from drumming. Marcel comes to mind. The way he held Callie in my living room and stroked her, like he loved her. “No, I uh, I found her. She was hurt so I took her in.”
“You found her?” Dad asks. “Well, did you try and ask around the neighborhood? See where she came from?”
“I did, but no one seemed to know.”
“That’s strange.” He scans me with his eyes. It’s almost like he can tell I’m lying. Fortunately, Kyle walks into the kitchen, saving me from the speculation.
“Apologies. I had to take that one,” Kyle says, and Dad stands when he approaches. They shake hands. “How are you, Will?”
“Good, good. And you?”
“I’m great. Glad to be here. Thank you for letting us stay the weekend.”
“Oh, it’s no problem at all. You guys know you’re always welcome here.”
Kyle takes the seat next to mine and asks, “What smells so great?”
“Oh, it’s soup! French onion! You’ll love it,” Mamá declares after topping off a few bowls and then adding the cheese. “Give me just a few minutes and then we can eat.”
“Take your time, Ma.”
“Loving your new home?” Dad asks Kyle.
“I am. We’re still adjusting, but I’m getting used to the idea of living on the beach.” He smiles at my dad.
Dad studies Kyle very briefly before putting his focus on mine. “And you, Gabby? Getting used to it?”
“Yeah. Every day spent there makes it feel like home.” But not right now. Right now, I’m so glad to be far away. I can’t take looking at that splintered leg at the dining table any longer, and only God knows when or if I’ll ever make tacos again.
“Good.” Dad steps away. “Kyle, want a beer?”
“Sure. That would be great.”
When Dad is at the fridge, I look at Kyle and put on a warm smile for him.
I know he doesn’t want to be here. I’m sure he’d much rather be at home, not dealing with my parents, but he took this trip for me. And at least there’s good food coming out of it.
THIRTY-TWO
GABBY
AFTER EATING two bowls of the soup with several slices of French bread, I’m stuffed.
&nb
sp; It’s nearing 6:00 p.m., and Mamá has asked me to go to the store with her to grab a few last-minute things for tomorrow’s dinner. On the way to the store, she’s listening to a podcast about organizing a closet. It’s insanely boring, so I scroll through Pinterest, looking at portraits and artwork from some of my favorite artists.
We finally make it to the store, and Mamá goes straight to the wine & beer aisle. “Going to need this to get through the weekend,” she says, grabbing several bottles of her favorite red. She picks up a case of Dad’s favorite beer, and it’s always those little things that I find so cute. She loves him, no matter what, and is always thinking about him anywhere she goes.
“So, tell me what’s really going on with you and Kyle,” she says, picking up a couple of lemons and inspecting them.
I frown at her back, confused. “What are you talking about?”
“Really, Gabby? Don’t think I don’t see it. There’s a—a distance or something between the two of you. Last time we saw you, you two were stuck together like glue!”
“Well, the last time you saw us was a week after our honeymoon, Mamá, so of course we were going to be that way.”
She purses her lips, then stuffs the lemons in one of the plastic produce bags. “You can’t fool me. I see right through all of your shit, okay?”
“Ma, I’m not kidding. We’re fine!” I laugh, but it’s forced and winded.
“You suck at lying,” she mutters nonchalantly, pushing her shopping cart down the aisle. She picks up a few limes too, then heads over to the lettuce.
“I mean, the distance bothers me a little. He still works in New York, and I’m stuck at home without him. I guess I’m still trying to get used to it.” Who am I kidding? There’s a deeper reason, but I refuse to tell my mother that I cheated on my husband with the landscape architect. I’m not even sure how she would take it, but the last thing I want to do is disappoint her.
“That’s no excuse.” I meet up to her side as she stops in the middle of the aisle. “You can’t let that get in the way of your relationship. Work is work, but he always comes back home to you. You think, when your dad travels, that I’m happy about it? No, but I know he’s doing it for us. The same reason Kyle is doing it. For the two of you.”
“I know that already! I’ve accepted it. Things are just different when he doesn’t come home every day. At least Dad isn’t gone for more than two days.”
“Nah-uh. Sometimes he is. He goes to those little conferences for business-owners he’s always invited to.”
“Yeah, conferences that are, like, three times a year.” Knowing I’m not going to win this argument with her, I sigh and let it roll off my shoulders.
“All I’m saying, Gabby, is to not let that get to your head. Don’t let your mind wander and don’t think about it too much. He’s working to provide for you—to keep a roof over your head. Working so that you don’t have to work so much anymore.” She pushes my nose like it’s a button, then continues down the aisle.
I wish I could tell my mom about what’s really going on with me. Hell, I wish I could tell someone period, but I’m too afraid I’ll be looked at differently. I know my family loves me and would accept me regardless, but to cheat on a man who does everything for me is wrong, and they’d know it. And even though they wouldn’t say it straight to my face, they’d be ashamed of my behavior.
I’ve been tempted to tell Teagan, but for now I’m keeping it to myself. It was one time, and I was really drunk and not thinking straight. Kyle has done many stupid things while drunk, and I’ve always forgiven him. It’s no excuse, but for the sake of my marriage, I need to move past it and focus on the future.
Easter dinner is just as expected. Chaotic. But it’s a comforting chaos, because there’s family and love, and the smell of good food cooking.
The twins, Niyah and Nella, are running around the house, screaming their heads off, while their mom, my Aunt Carolina, is wobbling around with an eight-months-pregnant belly. She doesn’t speak much English. She came here much later than my mom did, and is a lot younger, so when she’s around she just smiles at us, or my mom translates for her. She’s a sweet woman though. I don’t know much Spanish, so I can’t talk to her well, but she and my mom talk all the time. Her husband, my uncle-in-law, Tino, is on the couch watching a soccer game with a beer in hand.
Ricky is seated at the dining table with Violetta, but Violetta is scrolling through her phone while he talks right to her. It’s like she isn’t even listening, and he knows this, but he’s still chatting away. It’s sad.
As if she’s bored, Violetta places her phone down and then places a fist beneath chin, her elbow on the table. They arrived last night, and I could sense some tension between them, but Ricky smiled it off. Violetta ate some soup and then went up to their room for the rest of the night.
I place some sliced fruit on the table, glancing at Ricky when he’s done with his conversation about how he has to fly to Florida next weekend. Ricky is almost as tall as my dad—six feet and two inches. My dad is six feet and four inches. Ricky’s the spitting image of Mamá, though, when it comes to his caramel eyes and skin complexion. His dark-brown hair is freshly trimmed, his jaw square and covered in stubble. He’s lean, and he always credits his basketball playing days to that.
“You okay?” I mouth to him when he looks up.
He nods and winks at me, the thing he always does to assure me he’s fine, but it doesn’t work in his favor this time because the sadness in his eyes can’t be masked. He may be fooling everyone else, but I know the eyes are the windows to any soul, and his are hauntingly sad.
“Ay dios!” Mamá comes to the table to place a bowl of roasted potatoes down. “This place is busy, busy, but I love it! Nothing better than family, huh?” I go back to the kitchen to help her bring more food to the table. “Oh, Gabby, will you do me a favor and go to my car to get the serving spoons?” she asks. “I bought some new ones a few days ago but forgot to take them out of the backseat.”
“Sure.” I leave the kitchen, walking down the hallway. I get to the door and Dad, Kyle, and Uncle Tino are in the living room. The TV is on, and Uncle Tino is sitting down, sucked into the television, but Kyle and Dad are standing, talking right to each other. If I’m not mistaken, Kyle seems upset.
“What’s going on?” I ask, and they both stiffen before looking back at me. “You guys okay?”
“Yeah, we’re fine, babe.” Kyle puts on a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Dinner almost ready?” Dad asks, shifting the subject.
“Yeah. Mom is setting up the table now.”
“Good. Tino, let’s get ready to eat!” Dad claps Kyle on the shoulder. “Come on, Kyle. Time for a good meal.”
“Coming right after you,” Kyle tells him. Dad and Uncle Tino leave the living room and go to the kitchen, but Kyle lingers, putting his eyes on mine.
“What’s going on?” I demand softly.
“Nothing is going on, Gabs. Where are you headed?”
“To get the something from the car for my mom. Don’t change the subject. You looked upset. What happened?”
“It’s just…work related, is all. I was telling him about a few changes I want to make to the company, but that I am nervous. He was talking me through it, is all.”
“Oh.” I nod, but I’m still confused. Since when does Dad care about Kyle’s business life? And since when would Kyle take advice from my father? He normally takes those issues up with his father. “Well, go get ready for dinner. I’ll be right behind you.”
“Okay.” Kyle walks away. I watch him round the corner, and then I go outside, heading for Mom’s Camry. I find the box of serving spoons in the backseat and take it out.
On my way to the door, though, my phone chimes. I pull it out, and there’s a notification that I have an email.
I unlock the phone and go to the emails, entering my parents’ house again, but when I see who the email is from I freeze, standing right in front of
the door. My mouth goes dry, and my hands start shaking.
Miss Gabby,
I’ve been counting the days since our night over tacos and tequila. One week and two days, and I haven’t heard from you. I used to think I knew exactly what I was doing to a woman’s body. I mean, you came all over me, I felt it, but since I haven’t heard a peep from you, I’m assuming all of that was just for show?
I don’t expect you to respond, just want to let you know I’m thinking about you. If you need me, you know where to find me.
Marcel Ward
CEO of Ward Landscaping and Design
Oh. My. God. Is he serious right now? Why would he send this?
I read the email way too many times to count, my heart drumming in my chest. My fingers are slick with sweat, and I almost drop the box of serving spoons, but I clutch it to my chest, keeping it steady.
“Gabby!” Ricky yells, walking my way, and I nearly jump out of the light green jumper Teagan and I picked out during our mall trip. “What are you doing? We’re waiting on you to get dinner started.”
“Oh—yeah. Sorry. Got an email and had to check it.”
He takes the box from me. “Everything okay?”
“I’m fine. Everything okay with you?” I ask as we go back to the kitchen.
“Never better, sis.” I can tell he’s lying. He could be better. He’s miserable with Violetta, but that’s none of my business. Just like me and my mother, Ricky has a temper too. If you piss him off, it takes him a while to calm down.
The table is crowded with chairs. Some are chairs we pulled up from the four-top table in the kitchen. While some are high-backed chairs, others are shorter, but it works for our family. We’re so used to doing it this way but I’m sure to an outsider it would look very strange. There’s a card table and folding chairs set up in the living room for a kids’ table. Aunt Carolina brought it along for the twins.
I take the seat next to Kyle, who lightly squeezes my thigh as I sit. I look up, and he’s smiling at me. “Took you a while.”
“Couldn’t figure out where she put the serving spoons. Had to search.” Geez. When will I get the chance to stop lying?
The Man I Can't Have (Ward #1) (Ward Duet) Page 21