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Chapter 25
Recounting of the Damage
“Fine. I’ll go to dinner,” I said, holding the phone to my ear. It was Friday afternoon, and I had waited until the last possible moment to agree to see him. We were on my timeline now.
“You won’t regret it. I promise,” Hector said.
“Where should I meet you?”
“I’ll pick you up.”
“Okay. Fine.”
“Will you be at your apartment, or your dad’s?”
“My place, but I live in a different apartment now.”
I sent him the new address, and all that was left was to wait for him. It might have been safer to wait for him at Dad’s, but I hadn’t exactly told Dad about my dinner with Hector yet.
Mainly, he would have to tell me what leverage the chief had had on him then. It didn’t escape me that he’d left that part of the conversation out. I hadn’t asked him about it, thinking it might be personal, but I had to know—and he’d have to tell me.
“You look great,” Hector said as he got out of his car to open the door for me. I hadn’t wanted to give him my apartment number—there was still some distrust there—so I told him I’d wait outside.
I may have overdressed in a body-hugging little black dress because he wouldn’t tell me where we were going. I decided to err on the side of caution in case we went someplace nice.
“Thank you,” I said, purposefully not commenting on his appearance, though he looked handsome as ever in slacks and a button-down burgundy shirt.
My jaw clenched when he parked in front of his house. I was surprised he still lived at the same place he had when he worked at Heartland. Had he kept the house the entire time, or was he merely lucky to rent or re-purchase the same home?
I’d have to ask him later because I was doing everything in my power not to shout at him. I didn’t wait for him to open my door; I got out of the car and started walking away from the house as I pulled out my cell to find my car service app. He was insane if he thought I was going to have dinner inthere.
“Carolina!” he shouted. I heard the rapid footfalls of his jogging behind me. He grabbed my arm. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going home, Hector.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“You can’t bethatstupid,” I said. “What made you think I’d have dinner with you atyour house?”
“Please, just listen. This isn’t something nefarious. I brought you here because some of what I have to say, it may make you a bit mad.”
My eyes narrowed, but I didn’t press the key to call the car yet. “Mad?” I asked.
Hector nodded. “I figured you might enjoy shouting at me or perhaps throwing something. I wanted you to feel comfortable doing that if you wanted to.”
“You are not making me feel better about this dinner,” I said.
“I’m sorry. I knew you wouldn’t like a public scene. Listen, I’ve cooked, and I have nothing but dinner and your wrath planned for tonight. I promise.”
“What did you cook?” I asked, only mildly curious.
“Shrimppaella,” he said.
“I likepaella.”
“I know.” He smiled, and it melted me.
I reluctantly followed him to his place because I was weak, but I kept the car app open should I change my mind.
