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Chapter 14
Andre
Later that night, Andre pulled the car into his driveway. The festive music blaring from his neighbor’s house immediately made him tense. All the lights were on in her house and the windows open, only making it that much more obnoxious. There was no way he would be able to sleep with that noise blaring. He checked his watch—ten thirty. There was a noise ordinance in their neighborhood, and in sixty seconds she’d be breaking it.
“Fuck it,” he said, heading straight over to her door. There was no way she’d hear a polite knock over the loud music, so he pounded his fist against the door. He waited and waited. Pounding the wood again, his impatience grew. Did she have company?
Finally, the door opened, the music growing louder as it bled out into the night. Her dark hair spilled over her naked shoulders. The red dress she wore glittered in the moonlight—her long tan legs and curvy thighs on display for his viewing pleasure. She was barefoot, and for some reason it made him smile.
“This is the very opposite of space!” she yelled over the music as she hiccupped.
He’d been caught checking her out. There was no mirth in her expression. Her eyes were glassy and red.
“I can’t hear you over the music!” he shouted back.
She turned, slightly swaying as she walked away towards the kitchen and dialed down the sound until it was nothing but a soft background noise.
Something smelled amazing. His mouth watered as he followed her inside and shut the door.
She drained clear liquid from a glass and poured more from the near-empty liquor bottle. That explained the swaying.
“What is all this?” he asked, sitting in the same seat he’d taken when he’d visited before.
“It’s my mother’s birthday today,” she said as a beeping from the oven went off. She slipped on a pair of mitts and leaned a little too far left as she opened the oven.
He winced and shot to his feet. She was going to hurt herself. “Let me help.”
She pushed him away with one of her covered hands. “I don’t need your help. I can do it all by myself.”
Her bloodshot eyes bore into him. The pain reflected back sliced him to ribbons. Grief. He slowly backed away and took a seat again.
Mia pulled out a pan before removing the lid as steam rose around what looked like stuffed peppers of some sort. She grabbed a handful of red pomegranate seeds from a bowl on the counter and sprinkled them on top, her hands staining pink.
“Remy told me your parents passed. I’m sorry about what I said before,” he said.
She turned and faced him, leaning against the counter like she needed the support. “You sure are sorry for a lot of things.”
He chuckled. “Only when it comes to you.”
A moment of silence passed as they gazed into each other’s eyes. Every cell in his body wanted to pull her into his arms and make her forget everything for a little while. He wanted to make her feel good.
“So that’s what smells so delicious?” he asked.
“Chile en nogado. It was my mother’s favorite. It is believed that the nuns who prepared a feast for Augustin de Iturbide after he signed the Declaration of Mexico made up the dish to incorporate the colors of the Mexican flag—green, red, and white,” she explained, and sweet baby Jesus, her accent alone was enough to turn his cock to steel.
“You’re celebrating solo?” he asked. The hurt that flashed in her eyes made him want to retract the question. Of course she was—he’d kept her away from Remy and Jasmine.
“I don’t have anyone else.” Her voice was quiet as the room grew more somber. Her words were like a punch to his gut.
“Well, you’re not alone now,” he said. “That is, if you want my company at all?”
She blinked and turned away, facing the window to her backyard.
“I guess that’s my cue to leave,” he said, standing. Her shoulders trembled as if she was crying. Oh, Mia. He strode over, and took her in his arms. She leaned against him, quietly crying. He wished more than anything he could fix this. “I’m sorry,” he said, unsure of what else would bring her comfort.
She sniffled and backed away enough to look him in the eyes. “You must think I’m loca.”
“No more than the rest of us. I can’t imagine losing my mother, much less both my parents.”
