“I mean say what you are thinking.”
Jaime shook his head. “You still know me so well.”
“I don’t know about that, but I know that tone in your voice.”
“Fine. It’s just, I know this is your community and Carlos and your parents still live here. But you moved away.” He exhaled. “Maybe they could move away, too.”
Alma pulled her hair on her scalp. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I’m serious. Your bar is doing well. Maybe you could help them move to Tiburon? Or a different part of Marin.”
“Do you honestly think I haven’t tried?” Alma shook her head. “Have you met my parents? Or Carlos, for that matter? They would never let me support them. Ever. And Carlos could actually afford to get his own place, but he chooses to stay and help my parents and work in his community. I’m the bitch who moved out and abandoned her family for her oceanfront condo. But Carlos would never, ever do that. He’s selfless.”
Her voice choked up. Fuck.
He reached over and squeezed her hand. Luckily, she didn’t push him away. “I’m sorry, Alma. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”
“No, I know you didn’t. It’s just so hard. And I feel so fucking guilty. But I want to have my own life. And live where I work. I guess I’m just selfish.”
“You aren’t. I promise.”
She turned on her parents’ street and pulled into the driveway. Santi was right behind them.
She wiped her tears away with a tissue. “If Mamá sees my mascara running, she will think I’m crying over you.”
Jaime laughed. There was the funny Alma he knew. The Alma he had loved.
“Well, thanks for not trying to make me look bad. And letting me come with you.”
He opened the door and rushed around to open hers, but it was too late. She was already out of the car.
Jaime’s stomach clenched. He hadn’t intended on seeing her parents this trip—or ever again. He didn’t want to be questioned for his actions, but he knew he deserved a reckoning.
Alma had said that her parents wished him no ill will, but was that really true? He’d broken their only daughter’s heart.
And it wasn’t just her parents. Her entire family seemed to be here. Jaime recognized an aunt standing in the driveway and saw an uncle walk inside with a big plate of food.
Hopefully, the next crime in the Canal wouldn’t be a revenge murder—of himself.
Santi got out of the car and assessed the scene. “Wow. It’s a full family day for you. When’s the wedding?”
“Shut up, man. This is awkward as hell. But thanks for being my wingman.”
“Anytime.”
The scent of citrus and spice from the carne asada soothed his nerves. Dammit—why hadn’t he asked Alma to stop at the store to buy her mother flowers?
Alma approached the door, but before she opened it, it flew open. Carlos stood there with a smug grin on his face.
Alma’s parents lurked in the background. It was showtime.
“Hola, Señor y Señora Garcia.”
“Hola, Jaime!” Señora Garcia pulled Jaime in close to her and squeezed him tight. “Welcome back! I missed you, mijo,” she whispered into his ear. “Carlos told me you came back to help our community.”
Jaime was grateful that Carlos covered for him and made his intentions for coming back into town seem honorable. But he refused to lie to Alma’s mom.
“I missed you, too. But Carlos is mistaken. I’m happy to help the Canal, but I’m afraid my reason for coming wasn’t altruistic.” That explanation was sufficient—she didn’t need the details.
