Page 99 of Tastes Like Summer

I exhale, a wave of devastation for Diana’s daughters falls over me. Who the fuck would ever think of leaving them? I already thought less of Rodrigo for being dumb enough to throw Diana away, but to leave all three of them? There was a time when I would’ve killed to have them in my life forever. Still would. And this guy just willingly cast them aside?

Madness. Absolute madness.

“How are the girls handling it?” I ask, because I need to know how hard I’m going to destroy the motherfucker the next time I see him.

“Surprisingly well. Or at least much better than I expected. I think they gave up on their dad a couple of months ago, if I’m being honest. When school started, and he stopped coming around again, definitely.”

“How about you? Are you okay? Do you need help? Is that why you’re here?” Because I know what giving up parental rights means: it also means giving up responsibilities, as in financial ones. Maybe Diana needs money? But I can’t ever see her asking anyone for money unless her daughters were literally inches away from living on the street. And I certainly wouldn’t be the first person she’d go to. Not now. Even though I would probably still give her anything she asked for if she did.

“I’m here for you.”

I never used to be one to struggle with breathing before meeting Diana, yet it feels like almost every time I’m around her I suffer from an anoxic event. Like now, for example.

After growing a bit too lightheaded for comfort, I finally manage to suck in a breath.

Her lower lip trembles, and I can see just how difficult this is for her from the way her hands shake on the table, the pale skin on her face. Still, doesn’t she know it’s impossible for me?

“You’re here for me?”

She hesitates. “Well, I was actually in New York for a work trip and⁠—”

Ah. There it is.

“Just thought you’d stop by for a visit, then?” The disappointment is vicious and runs deep. Despite still having feelings for her, the pain is still unexpected. Until this very moment, I thought I had accepted my fate. And yet, for a minute there, I actually believed she was here to ask me to get back together. That she was here to tell me she loved me. And I wanted it.

But I was wrong.

“I… Not really. Or I guess, yes. But...” She sighs heavily, as if the entire weight of the world were on her shoulders. My first instinct is still to help alleviate some of it. My second, to walk away and protect myself from the world of pain that’s sure to come my way.

“Listen,” I start, my voice a little too shaky for comfort. “I don’t know exactly what’s going on here, but if you felt like you had to come visit the restaurant or me just because you were a couple of hours away, please know that you didn’t have to. You don’t owe me anything. You never did. All I wanted was to make your life easier, and by the look of your face, this conversation is not one you want to have. So please, enjoy your dinner—it’s on me. I would recommend the duck, but you already ordered everything on the menu—and I hope you have a fantastic trip back to Colorado.” I get to my feet and quickly turn on my heel, leaving the woman I love behind as I go hide in my office like a coward, leaning on my desk as I try to process everything.

A knock at the door interrupts the thoughts running through my head.

“Yeah?” But I already know who it is.

“It’s me.” The soft tone of her voice does something to the inside of my chest, an aching pain that seems to start right below my ribs and end in my stomach.

This love for her, it just might kill me.

Diana doesn’t wait for me to tell her to come in. She doesn’t ask permission either. Instead, she pushes the door open, slipping quickly inside the office, and shuts it behind her.

Suddenly, it’s too much. This space is too small to hold everything I want to say, all the things I feel.

“You shouldn’t be back here. This isn’t for patrons and…” I shake my head.

Out there, her scent was almost disguised by the smell of food and other people. But locked inside this office, I’m overwhelmed by peaches and honey—by the smell of something so familiar, tied to so many visceral memories that have kept me in a chokehold since the moment I laid eyes on her, I involuntarily relax and tense at the same time. The concentrated scent of a collection of moments—some perfect and others not so perfect—that have kept me up at night for over three months.

The day we met.

Our first kiss.

The first time I cooked for her.

The last time she was in this very office.

I wince and squeeze my eyes shut, praying this is just a very, very painful nightmare that I’ll soon wake up from.

“I know, I’m sorry,” she says. “I just… I need to say something, and then I promise you can send me away forever.”