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I hold my head high as I walk toward the diner.
“Hey,” Cal calls, startling me.
I turn toward the direction of his voice. He leans against the brick wall outside of the front entrance, appearing completely out of place with his perfectly pressed white linen shirt and his custom-tailored pants. His outfit reminds me of the other rich tourists who visit, looking like they belong yachting in Ibiza rather than on our lake.
He slides his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to get a better look at me. “Cute dress. Did your mom make it?”
The mention of my mom has my throat closing up. Grief is a strange thing. It comes and goes, usually at the most inconvenient time, turning our lives upside down while we process the loss yet again.
I instinctively reach for the gold necklace she gave me for my quinceañera, rubbing the cool metal between my fingers back and forth. “Yeah.” My voice cracks.
“How is your mom doing by the way? I didn’t see her car at the house. Is she visiting your family in Colombia for the summer or something?”
My heart pounds hard against my rib cage as I halt midstride. “You really don’t know.”
His head tilts. “Don’t know what?”
My gaze darts toward the entrance of the diner. “She passed away a couple of years ago while your grandpa was still in a coma. Stage-four pancreatic cancer.” I’m surprised I can get the words out without my voice catching.
It only took you two years to get there.
For the first year after my mom passed, it was hard to talk about her without crying. Every memory felt painful—both physically and mentally. It took Cami asking a lot of questions about her grandma for me to get used to speaking about her again with a smile rather than tears.
“Shit, Alana. I had no idea about your mom.” Cal places his hand against my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. The warmth of his palm works like a balm, warding off the chill seeping into my bones.
“I thought you knew.”And chose not to show up for her funeral anyway.
His head shakes hard enough to ruffle his hair. “Of course, I didn’t. If I had—Fuck. I forbade my brothers from mentioning… this place.”
My breathing becomes increasingly difficult with every inhale.
“I’m so sorry.” His grip tightens. “I wish…” He pauses, as if considering whether he should speak or not. “I should have been there for you.” The way he says it with absolute certainty makes me believe him.
Our gazes connect. Something unspoken passes between us before he wraps his arms around me and tucks me against his chest. My body relaxes instantly in his hold, and a feeling of rightness consumes me. Any anger, frustration, and heartache from the last few days melts away like it never existed in the first place.
I know the relief is only temporary. That the moment he lets go, reality will come crashing down around me.
Just a few more seconds, I promise myself as I press my cheek against his chest. I forgot howrightit felt to be held in his arms. Or the comfort that overwhelms me as I listen to the beat of his heart, pumping rapidly in his chest.
I ignore the voice in the back of my head nagging at me and allow myself to enjoy being taken care of.
Why do the things that feel the best always hurt us the most?
“What about your sister?” He runs his hand through my hair, making my spine tingle from the intimate gesture.
“What about her?”
“Is she…” His voice trails off.
“Dead? God no, although sometimes I go to bed worried that she might be.”
“But Cami—”
I don’t let him finish his train of thought. “Is mine in every way that counts. Anto signed the paperwork and made it official soon after she was born.”
His hold tightens, as if he senses me gearing up to pull away. “You never cease to amaze me.”
I burry my face into his chest. “I didn’t have a choice.”
