‘Not at all.’ Stella forced herself to straighten up and she clutched the tablecloth to her chest. ‘I was just going to put this in the washing machine.’
She knew she looked guilty, and Jon did nothing to help her out.
‘Goodnight, Stella,’ he said in a stiff, stern voice. ‘We’ll speak about this another time.’
And with that, he walked swiftly back to the villa, leaving an even frostier atmosphere behind.
Stella’s guts twisted and she wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. The last thing she’d wanted was for Hector to find out about Jon’s infatuation. She’d hoped to protect both her children from that.
More to the point, Hector always thought the worst of her and would undoubtedly jump to the conclusion that this was somehow her fault. Whichever way she looked at it, her relationship with her son would become more difficult still.
‘What was that about?’ he asked coldly before she’d managed to gather her thoughts and think of an appropriate explanation.
She hesitated before speaking. ‘Jon’s in a really bad way.’
‘I know that.’
‘He wants to move on from Harriet’s death but doesn’t know how.’
Hector’s face warped into an ugly snarl.
‘So he’s hitting on you? He thinks you’ll mend his broken heart?’
Stella swallowed. She could deny it, but her son was so sharp, he’d know she was lying.
She racked her brains to come up with a palatable response. ‘He’s completely deluded,’ she replied at last. ‘I think it must be because of the trauma he’s gone through. I’ve told him there’s no way I’d ever have a relationship with him. It’s not going to happen. Hopefully, he’ll get the message soon.’
‘Jeez.’ Hector crossed his arms and gripped his biceps tightly, as if for self-protection.
The garden was only partially illuminated by lights from the house, and half his face was in shadows.
As Stella glanced at him warily, she thought he looked as if he were wearing a mask. The side that was showing was angry and inscrutable. But if you flipped the mask over, you’d see the full range of his emotions.
His brow was furrowed and his mouth was set in a grim, hard line. Behind the anger, however, she was sure sadness lurked, hidden from view.
‘What are you thinking?’ she asked gently. ‘You do believe me?’
He rubbed his eyes. Was he crying? She wanted to give him a hug but didn’t dare.
‘Dad…’ He started to speak but stopped again almost immediately.
‘Dad what?’ Stella asked encouragingly. ‘What about him?’
For a moment, it seemed Hector was going to tell her something, but he must have thought better of it and clamped his mouth shut.
‘Nothing,’ he said bitterly. ‘It doesn’t matter. Go and fuck Jon if you want; I don’t care.’
Her jaw dropped and tears of fury, hurt and disbelief pooled in her eyes.
‘Don’t speak to me like that!’ she cried, her face and neck bursting into flames. ‘I’m your mother! Maybe that doesn’t mean anything to you any more. I’ve told you, nothing’s happened with Jon and never will.’
Hector pushed his face into Stella’s, making her recoil, and his dark eyes flashed in the gloom.
‘You lost the right to be my mum when you kicked my dad out. You almost broke him. How do you think that makes me feel?’
His cheeks were burning, too, and his body trembled with rage.
She let out a sob and buried her face in her hands. ‘I can’t stand it. I can’t cope with your hate any more.’
