Page 81 of Tastes Like Summer

He groans. “Here we go again. Another made up drama for your Lifetime movie.” Rodrigo rolls his eyes and takes another sip of his wine. “She’s twenty-four. An adult. It’s not the end of the fucking world, Diana,” he hisses.

“It’s not even about her age. It’s so inappropriate! And I’m not letting you take my daughters on a trip with a woman I’ve never met.”

“Oh, like you fucking this dude right here is any different? Or did you not let him spend the entire summer with my girls?”

I gasp, appalled. Between the language he used and the blatant disrespect in front of his kids and Michael and Rachel, I don’t even know where to start. But even though I want to go off on him, I can’t tell him he’s wrong. I did leave them alone with Michael when I left for New York, and he took them to the aquarium.

Still, I open my mouth to let him have it, but catch the look on my girls’ faces before I do. Devastation. Stress. The beginning of tears building in both their eyes. So I grit my teeth and bite back the words that beg to be spoken.

Michael pushes back from the table, the legs of the chair scraping across the floor in a way that makes most patrons turn to look at us with nervous curiosity. “Rodrigo? I think we should step outside for a moment.”

“What? Michael, no.” My stomach drops—it twists and turns. The Michael I know today would never start a physical fight, but I know he has a past. I know he was a troublemaker when he was a teenager (a bit of a euphemism based on the stories he told me). So I anxiously reach over and take his wrist in my hand, doing my best to pull him back down. “Please,” I beg.

“Fuck, yeah. Finally. Let’s do this.” Rodrigo gets to his feet and rubs his hands together like a villain in an old school spy movie. “I’m going to kick your ass.”

“Papi, no! What are you doing?” Cami tugs on her dad’s shirt and tries to pull him down, but he’s an unmovable force, his rage blinding him to the fact that his little girl is even speaking to him. Emi cries in earnest now, unrelenting tears building. But it isn’t their father who calms them down.

Michael runs over to where they’re both seated and crouches beside them. “Hey,” he tells them in a soft, soothing voice, grabbing one of their hands in each of his. “No one’s going to fight anyone. I just want to talk to your dad for a second.” His eyes flit to mine. “I promise.”

But Rodrigo scoffs, making me believe that, though Michael has no intention of starting something, he may have to finish it. “Yeah, okay,” my ex says with a sarcastic laugh. “Let’s talk.”

It’s already 6 PM, but the sun and the temperature are still high on this late August evening. You wouldn’t be able to tell by the gorgeous day we had today, but fall is fast-approaching, and with it, the end of the most incredible summer of my life. The sadness of it has become a near-constant ache in my chest, but I put it aside for now when I lead Rodrigo to the side of the restaurant to have a little talk.

“By ‘talk’ I legitimately meant ‘talk,’” I clarify once we’re face-to-face and alone.

His face droops slightly in disappointment, which shocks me. If I’m honest, despite knowing everything I know about Rodrigo, I wouldn’t have really pegged him for someone violent. Especially not in this case, when I feel like I’m more justified in my anger than he is. He mistreated the woman I love and neglected their children, whom I also care deeply about. Rodrigo, on the other hand, is only angry because I exist. Because by me being there for Diana and his daughters, he’s no longer needed. And narcissists don’t like to feel irrelevant.

“Talk? That’s all you want to do?” He scoffs. “I should’ve known Diana’s next pick would be a beta.”

I grit my teeth, not letting him bait me even though there’s nothing I would love more than to show him just how bad this beta could fuck him up.

I cross my arms in front of my chest in an effort to restrain myself. “I’m not going to fight you.”

“Why the hell not?”

“First of all, because it would upset Emi and Cami, and they’ve been through enough trauma. Second, it would upset Diana, and I really don’t want to hurt her. And third… well, honestly, I don’t think it’s worth the effort.”

He snorts. “So Diana isn’t worth the effort?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. Diana is worth everything. But beating your ass—and make no mistake, I could very easily beat your ass—is not worth sore knuckles, or upsetting the girls.”

Rodrigo rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay, sure.”

But I’m not going to argue about this. It’s dumb and a waste of my time and completely irrelevant.

“I want to talk about what you’re really doing here.”

“What I’m doing here?” He raises a brow. “I’m here to see my daughters at camp. To visit my wife.”

“Ex-wife. And based on your performance this summer, it doesn’t seem like you give two shits about your daughters. Or Diana, for that matter.”

“Oh, and you do give a shit about my daughters?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely I do.” And I mean it. Over the last two and a half months, I’ve gotten to see how amazing Diana’s daughters are. How smart Emi is, how passionate Cami can be. Both of them so strong, both overcoming their own set of challenges at such a young age. And while I know Cami must’ve felt conflicted about whatever role she thought I was playing in their lives, I know she didn’t mean to harm me or her mom by telling her dad about us. I know she didn’t intend for drama to follow. She’s just a kid, struggling to manage a mess created by adults. And I won’t fault her for that.

“Please,” he scoffs. “This isn’t serious. Diana’s only with you because she’s upset I’ve moved on⁠—”

“Several times over, apparently.”