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My mom clasps her hand against her chest. “Not long, although that didn’t stop my son from breaking her heart.”
“Surprised she found him worthy of it to begin with.” Dahlia smirks.
She didn’t.I bite down on my tongue in an admirable display of self-restraint.
“Don’t start,mija,” Rosa warns her daughter.
“Sorry,Mami.”
My mom shakes her head. “It’s okay. I should have warned her mother before they started dating.”
“Warned her about what?” Dahlia perks up.
“Julian leaves a trail of sad women behind him.”
“No, I don’t.” I don’t know why I feel the need to defend myself, but I stupidly continue. “And I didn’t break Annabelle’s heart.” She would need to possess one to begin with, and our exchange proved otherwise.
“How would you know?” Lily asks.
“Because we only went on three dates.” All of which ended with me politely escorting her to the door each night and giving her a kiss on the cheek.
There was no buzz. No chemistry. No special spark thathad my blood rushing and my head spinning.
It was hard to find her attractive in the first place with how she mistreated those around her, including servers and those she deemed below her status.
Despite Annabelle’s shortcomings, I know the problem lies within myself rather than with the women I’m set up with. They expect a charismatic billionaire who will wine and dine them around the world, but I’m not that guy. I prefer listening rather than speaking, quiet actions instead of elaborate displays of affection, and working hard to share my money with others rather than finding a way to spend it all on myself.
And while some were willing to accept that about me at first, all of them had the same reaction when I told them I wasn’t interested in having kids—at least not in the way they wanted.
My mom frowns. “Her mother said Annabelle felt something special between you two.”
“Better wife her up before she comes to her senses,” Dahlia adds.
I glare at her. “She wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“Obviously not if she thought you two were special.”
Remember that apology you practiced? Forget it.
“Dahlia!” Rosa chides.
She winces. “What?”
Her mom shoots her a look. “You knowwhat.”
“Perdón.” She sinks deeper into the dining chair.
Perdón:Sorry.
I fight back a smile.
Dahlia scratches the tip of her nose with her middle finger.
“That’s it.” Rosa throws her napkin on the table and points a finger at her daughter. “You’re in charge of dishes.”
“But I got my nails done yesterday.” She holds up her hands, showing off her intricate nail art.
“Wear my rubber gloves, then.”
