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Out of curiosity, did he admit to stabbing me in the back by pursuing you?
Questions linger on the tip of my tongue like poison arrows. “Nope.”
“Perfect. Now if you don’t mind, I have a date withThe Silver Vixensand don’t want to be late.”
The Silver Vixens?
Shit.Things must be worse than I thought. Dahlia only saves binge marathons ofThe Silver Vixensfor the shittiest occasions, like when her dad died or when that asshole football player she liked called her a prude bitch when she didn’t have sex with him after their first date.
Before she has a chance to open the door, I grab her hand. The physical contact makes my palm tingle, so I drop it like a stick of burning dynamite.
We both speak at the same time.
“Umm, I should—”
“You need to—”
“I better get going so you don’t miss Nico’s performance.” She rushes to get the words out before bolting from my car.
I help remove her luggage from the trunk. With a grumbled “thank you,” she takes off toward her house, her designer suitcase kicking up dust behind her.
I’m not sure what possesses me to speak again, yet I can’t help myself as I ask, “See you around?” My heart hammers against my rib cage while I wait for her reply.
She stops at the stairs leading up to the porch. “Why?”
“I’m curious.”
“I hope you’re not planning all the ways you can torture mealready.” Her half-hearted tease lacks any oomph.
“Torturing you is my favorite pastime.”
A spark flashes in her eyes before it is snuffed out like a fire in the middle of a snowstorm. “Have you ever explored your need to turn everything into a competition to make up for your massive inferiority complex?”
Dahlia makes me feel more exposed in a custom-tailored suit than I have while naked, because where most people see a reserved guy one bad interaction away from becoming the town asshole, she sees me.
The real me.
The self-conscious me.
The me I have spent the last ten years loathing because he represents everything I hate about myself. He was weak, shy, and too damn prideful to do anything but suffer in silence while he fumbled his way through life.
It’s best I remember that she knows everything about me, including the parts of myself that I’ve spent a decade erasing.
Effective immediately.
Fall-themed bulletin boards blur as I rush past the dark classrooms of my youth and head inside the newly renovated auditorium.
Somehow, I make it in time to see Nico walk out in a tailcoat tuxedo and a pair of his most colorful prescription glasses. The crowd claps loud enough to drown out my cousin’s huff as I settle into the empty chair between him and my mom.
With Rafa’s overgrown hair, worn-out jeans, and wrinkledbutton-down shirt, I wouldn’t guess the man is filthy rich. He still drives the same pickup truck from high school and refuses to upgrade his outdated cell phone, despite being a tech geek. He only splurges on Nico, but even that has a hard limit because he doesn’t want to spoil him rotten.
All the tension in Rafa’s body bleeds away once Nico takes his seat in front of the grand piano and runs his hands over the ivory keys. I’m not one to brag, but my godson is going to be up there with all the most renowned musicians one day. The kid is only eight years old and can already play three different instruments, one of which he learned by watching YouTube tutorials all on his own.
A standing ovation follows Nico’s performance, and my cousin flashes a rare smile as he whistles and shouts his son’s name.
I expect Rafa’s good mood to disappear once the curtains close, but it remains after the lights turn on and my mom disappears into the crowd to search for Nico.
“I’m glad you could finally grace us with your presence, given your busy work schedule and all.” Rafa gives my shoulder a squeeze.
