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At this, a small snort escapes me. “Is that your way of saying run? That you’re not buying it either?”
A memory hits me then, something she said to me on my fifteenth birthday. Dad fought with her that night. He was so mad over my gift; a girls-only weekend trip to California we never took because he forbade us from going alone.
“Apologies are empty when the actions prior hold malice. One thing is making a mistake, Lola, but when a person hurts you because they can—to make you feel small—that’s not love. Never give someone the power over you to do so, baby.” Mom cups my face, her smile sad. “Don’t make my mistakes.”
“I promise I won’t.” Leaning forward, I place my forehead against the cool marble. Lower my voice so Alton can’t hear me outside. “Besides, Malcolm won’t allow it. You’d love him, Mom. How he is with me. How he defends me.”
The heaviness I’ve felt since last night lightens with each word I share. With how I gush like any woman my age would with her mom when she falls...
Christ. That train of thought stops me.
I can’t lie to myself. Can’t deny that I feel something special for him.
“I think he’s my one. The guy you told me would come into my life and change it all.” A shadow appears at the doorway but doesn’t enter. Just stands there. “There’s so much I want to share with you, and I will...soon. For now, please know that I’m happy—that I’ve found peace away from Dad and Alton. I love you so much, Mom. Always.”
A few stray tears fall from my eyes, and I wipe them away. It’s always hard to leave here, but today there’s also hope blooming in my heart because for the first time in a long time, I’m not alone.
Standing from the floor and with one last touch to her grave, I walk out to face Alton and Dad. The two are standing close, whispering and looking like utter crap. How did I miss this when Alton apologized?
Their clothes are wrinkled. Unkempt.
Their hair is greasy and skin a bit pale.
Once I’m near, they stop talking while my brother gives me that pathetic look once more. “Can we go home and talk? I’m late for my next dosage of pain medication.”
“No.” Lowering my sunglasses over my face, I shrug. “If you need to go, then go. We can have this chat another day.”
“Don’t be difficult, London. We just—”
“Dad, stop. Not this time.” My eyes shift toward Gina and notice her hand at her side, how her eyes are on the men of my family. Alton notices her, while Dad looks toward the other end of the street and I’m not the least bit surprised when I spot Javier there. He’s casually leaning against the side door of his car, a grin on his face. It also explains why they didn’t barge inside and forcefully remove Alton. “I’m not interested in going to the house, but I’ll give you the chance to speak with me if you want, and I’ll give you plenty of time to go and get your meds. Meet me at Rojo’s today around five. Google it if you don’t know where it is.”
“Why can’t—”
“That’s perfect. See you there.” Alton gives Dad a hard look and reluctantly, he nods. They walk away after a few minutes of my silence. I’m sure my attitude is throwing them off, and it surprises me too, but feeling safe does that to a person.
If only this didn’t feel like a mistake.
Or worse, how do I get Gina and Javi to agree?
They’re already here when I enter the Mexican restaurant at 4:45 p.m. on the dot. Sitting at a table near the back, they spot me, and the company I keep, the moment we enter.
It’s the compromise Javier gave me.
They’ll sit away from us, but within visibility. I have to be easily reachable.
That, or it’s a no-go, and I agree with him. Alton’s apology isn’t making much sense—it goes against everything he stands for. In his egotistical mind, he’s never wrong, so saying the words I’m sorry causes a danger sign to flare across my processors.
It’s fake, no doubt about that, but why?
I slip into a chair across from Alton and Dad, giving them a tight smile. “Have you been waiting for long?”
“Just a few minutes,” Dad answers, picking up his drink of what looks to be pop, and taking a sip. “We got drinks but were waiting on you to order.”
“Have you eaten here before?” Alton opens his menu, flipping through the few pages in the binder. “Anything you recommend?”
“No, but I’ve driven by it a few times and it caught my eye.”
The waiter appears then, in his hand a tray with fresh chips and a couple small dishes with salsas. He places them in the middle of the table. “Hi, I’m Miguel and I’ll be your server today. What can I get you to drink, Miss?”
