Page 75 of Tastes Like Summer

“We talked about this last night, remember? We’re gonna tell them today.”

“Yeah. At dinner. After their talent show thing. I don’t want them to find out by having you walk-of-shaming out of my bedroom first thing in the morning. That’s not how we should be handling this.” I don’t think. I’ve never been in this situation, obviously, but logic is telling me this isn’t the way.

Michael throws himself back onto the pillows, his eyes on the ceiling. “I know you’re right, I just would love to have breakfast here with everyone. Together. Like a real…” He swallows once, and I feel my stomach jump.

Whoa. Was he gonna say⁠—

A loud banging comes from the guest house front door—the one we never use.

“Who the hell could that be?” I sit up and quickly put on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.

Michael follows my lead, dressing in the same clothes he came in last night. “Could it be Barbara?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Barbara won't be back for another week. She has a couple of more days of filming to do. It’s why she couldn’t make it to the opening.”

“Right.”

The speed and strength of the knocking grows insistent, and when I hear the voice that starts calling out for me, I go as still as a statue. A cold chill runs through my entire body as I realize the person huffing and puffing outside of the house is none other than my ex-husband.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask when I pull the door open and find myself faced with the man who abandoned my children. My skin simultaneously heats from rage and indignation while a current runs through me from fear and uncertainty of what this might do to the girls.

Rodrigo stands in the doorway, a smug smirk on his face that turns my stomach over. “What do you mean? I’m here to see my daughters.”

Something I've learned about Rodrigo since our divorce is that there has to be something in it for him in everything that he does—he doesn’t know the meaning of the word “selfless.” I'm not sure how I never saw that side of him—or if I did, how I was able to find the strength within me to suppress the realization. Maybe I just had to in order to survive? Maybe part of me thought that a quarter of a partner was better than no partner at all? But now that I've had time and separation from him and our relationship, I can see that all he was doing was dragging me down emotionally.

“You’re here to see your daughters?” I ask, my voice flat. “Well, that's hilarious, considering you have been absolutely MIA from their lives over the past couple of months. Or have you not received any of their letters or calls? We definitely haven’t heard from you once.” I cross my arms in front of my chest and glare at him, trying to scare him with my best evil eye. In the back of my mind, however, I'm praying Michael doesn't feel the need to come out and meet my ex.

Rodrigo, at six-foot-four and a large build, looks down at his nails. “I saw their letters—how do you think I found you? I used the return address. I’ve just been super busy, so I haven’t been able to reply.”

“You’ve been too busy to even answer one fucking text?”

His neck snaps up to look at me, surprise in his eyes. I'm not one to curse often so he knows I’m close to boiling over. Honestly, if I were him, I'd go find cover before I erupt all over the place and burn him down.

“With the divorce and everything,” he starts, “I’ve been settling into my new home. You know how I rented that place downtown? Well, I've been doing this whole move alone so…"

“How sad for you,” I say sarcastically. “Well, I've been doing the whole parenting thing alone and let me tell you, I'm pretty sure that's a little bit more difficult than building IKEA furniture for a studio apartment.”

He scoffs. “God, why do you have to be so bitter? I’m sorry I found someone else. It just didn't work out between us.”

I practically choke, stutter through my words, not knowing where to even begin to reply to that statement. “It just didn't work out? That's all you have to say? It’s not even about that anymo— And you think that's the only reason I'm upset? I don't give a⁠—”

“Hey,” Michael's voice comes up behind us. He wraps an arm around my waist, the look he gives Rodrigo filled with such resentment and protectiveness I wonder if it physically causes my ex any pain. “What’s going on here? Everything okay?”

“Ahhh,” Rodrigo says. “This is the new boyfriend, huh? I've heard about you.”

I narrow my eyes at my ex, heart dropping. “What do you mean you've heard about him? From who?” I ask, a bit horrified.

“Well, my dear, you might think that I haven't had time to read our daughters’ letters, but Camila sure had a lot to say about the man who sneaks out of my wife’s bedroom in the middle of the night. Even for a seven year-old, she sure has a way with words.”

I stop breathing, while Michael inhales sharply beside me. “First off, Cami is nine. And second, how did she even find out about us?”

“Shit,” Michael mutters. “I meant to tell you about that, but then you never mentioned it so I assumed she thought nothing of it and⁠—”

“What are you talking about?” My eyes flash to him.

Rodrigo whistles and laughs once with an, “Ooh, trouble in paradise,” but I ignore him.

“Well,” Michael starts, scratching the back of his neck. “That night of the storm, after we…” He glances nervously at Rodrigo before looking back at me. “Well, when I went back out into the living room, I ran into Cami. But she was groggy and kind of out of it, and I swear to god I thought she didn’t suspect a thing. I was going to tell you, but…”