“What, you don’t speak anymore?” I snapped.
“The devil doesn’t need manners,” he muttered.
“What’s wrong with you? If you didn’t want to come, you didn't have to.”
“I didn’t knowhewould be here.”
“What do you have against him? You don’t even know him.”
“I know enough,” Satan said, still leaning against the entertainment system, arms crossed like a sulking child.
“So, youaremad?”
“I am mad.”
“But why? You’re the one who wanted me to stay with you.”
He finally moved, slowly heading toward the backyard, frustration radiating off him in waves. “You’re a smart girl, Ness. You’ll figure it out.”
I stood frozen, staring at the empty space he’d left behind, when my dad appeared beside me.
“Happy birthday,princesa.” He pulled me into a side hug, his eyes already glassy. “Aww, you even wore a dress for yourmamá.”
“I didn't know you guys were throwing a party. Maybe if someone had given me a heads-up, I could’ve worn pants.” I shot him my sharpest side-eye, but he only grinned.
With all the chaos, nobody noticed my scar, and I planned to keep it that way, even if I had to glue myself to the picnic table. My dad was the only one who knew why I avoided dresses. Maybe it was because he was in the car with me that night. Inevitably, he carried that guilt. It was why he got extra weepy on my birthdays. I could tell him a thousand times it wasn't his fault, and he’d still lock himself in that prison.
“C’mon. Let’s go. Can’t stay inside forever.”
“Or—OR—we sneak to the taco place down the street and come back in a few hours,” I suggested.
He laughed and dragged me outside.
There was an empty chair beside my mom and another beside Elliott. His arm rested across the back of it casually, like it was waiting for me. Across from him sat Julián. My dad took one look at the scene, then at me, and smirked. With a quick wink, he took the seat next to my mom.
Everyone’s eyes tracked me as I walked to the empty chair next to Elliott. I expected him to move his arm, but he didn't. Across the table, he and Julián were locked in a silent stare-down.
My sister caught my eye and mimed eating popcorn, grinning like the devil.
I sat down, and the air around the table immediately turned heavy. Elliott didn't move his arm from the back of my chair; instead, he seemed to claim the space around me like it was his birthright. Across from us, Julián sat with a composed, polite smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
The dinner started as a blur of passing bowls and loud Miranda chatter, but the center of the table was a dead zone of silence.
“So, Elliott,” my brother-in-law started, oblivious to the nuclear tension. “Vanessa tells us you’re keeping her busy with a new line. How’s the work coming along?”
“She’s talented,” Elliott said, his voice a low grate. He didn't look at my brother-in-law. He looked at Julián. “But she’s been a little... distracted lately.”
I choked on a sip of water. My mom reached over and patted my back, her eyes darting between the three of us. She knew. She always knew when a storm was brewing.
“Distraction is part of the creative process,” Julián countered smoothly, his tone like silk. “Sometimes you have to step away from the work to find the inspiration again. We had a wonderful afternoon in the city.”
Elliott’s fingers drummed once against the wood of my chair, right behind my neck. I could feel the heat radiating off him. “Inspiration is fine. But Ness has a deadline. I’d hate for her to lose her focus over something... temporary.”
The wordtemporaryhung in the air like an insult. My fork clattered against my plate. I wanted to disappear, to crawl under the picnic table and stay there until Cabo.
“Elliott,” Morgan warned from down the table, her voice sharp.
He didn't back down. He just picked up his glass, took a slow drink, and never took his eyes off Julián. The message was clear:I was here first. I’m the one she’s staying with. You’re just a guest.
