Say Yes (Something More) (13 page)

I fold my arms across my chest and glare. I won’t let her turn this against me. She’s the one screwing up here. And it’s not just her love for the baby that gets me, it’s knowing she’s spending time with her ex, time that should be spent with me. “Did Jackson make a move on you?”

She rolls her eyes. “Of course.”

The way she’s acting so casual about it, as if it’s no big deal he’s trying to get her back, pisses me off. Flames of anger infuse my skull. It’s taking all of my willpower just to keep it together.

“How do you expect me to feel about this?” I ask, choosing my words carefully, when all I want to do is scream and punch the wall.

“Hello?” She laughs and waves a hand in my face. “You know all about Jackson. Small penis, bad breath, major control freak. You’ve got no reason to be jealous.”

Oh, but I do. And the fact that she’s not getting it makes me even angrier. “So let me get this straight,” I grumble. “You don’t want to have
my
children, but you spend all day with your ex and
his
baby, and I’m not supposed to be jealous?”

She rolls her eyes so far back, it’s unnatural. I’m about sick of her rolling her eyes at me.

“It wasn’t all day,” she groans, “and it’s not that I don’t want
your
children. I don’t want
any
children.”

“Liar,” I say, no longer in the mood to censor my words.  

She jerks back, cocking a hand on her hip. “Excuse me?”

I cross the narrow distance between us, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “You want kids.
Other
kids.”

And then I do what I should have done after all those times she evaded our discussions about marriage and family. After all those times she complained about my family wanting us to get married. I storm out of the kitchen, grab my bag out of the bedroom closet, and start packing.

I can’t do this anymore. I can’t waste my life with a woman who wants me but doesn’t. I’m obviously nothing more than a fuck buddy to her. After six months together, you’d think the mention of a future together wouldn’t make her roll her eyes with disgust. I grab shirts and jeans and my work boots out of the closet and throw them into the bag.

“Where are you going?” she’s asking from somewhere in the hallway.

“You’ve made it clear you don’t want me,” I say as I rip open dresser drawers and thrust socks and underwear into my bag.  

“That’s not true.” Her voice sounds small, frightened.

I turn to look at her. She’s leaning against the doorframe, clutching it with a trembling hand. Her eyes are wide and glassy, and she almost looks on the verge of passing out.

For a second, I lose my resolve as anger is replaced with pity.    

“Then tell me, Christina.” I grab the bag by the handles and walk up to her. “Tell me one day you’ll want to marry me and have my children.”

She opens her mouth as if to speak, but then says nothing. But to me, her silence says everything.

I think I hear a stifled sob as I brush past her and toward the front door.

“Where are you going?” she calls.

I pull open the door and turn to look at the girl I’ve loved for the past six months—the girl I still love—one last time. “To live my life,” I say, and though my heart and soul screams in protest, I walk out the door.

* * *

Christina

I stare out the kitchen window as silent tears stream down my face, watching my boyfriend drive away. It’s weird because it’s like someone else is watching him go. I don’t feel my body; everything’s gone numb. The tears dripping down my face and onto the floor are hardly noticeable. I don’t remember walking to the kitchen and pulling back the curtain. I slump into a chair and stare at the mess on the stove. Chicken and Spanish rice, my favorite. This morning, I’d hinted to Andrés I missed his chicken dish, and he made it even though it was my night to cook. All because I asked.

I stare at the food blankly, trying to process what just happened, trying to understand why he’d walk away. Why did I let him walk away? Why didn’t I beg him to stay?

I’m the world’s biggest dumbass, that’s why.

Andrés is… was the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I let him go because I’m too chicken to commit to our future.

I’m startled by a knock on the front door. I’m barely aware of my feet propelling me forward as I jump out of my seat and throw open the door, disappointed to see it’s not Andrés coming back to try and work things out, but Grace and Violet.

Grace is in a sleek black dress and shiny heels. Most of her blonde hair is swept up and she’s got curly little ringlets hanging down her neck. She looks beautiful. Violet is wearing her usual western clothes, looking like she’s ready to go to work at a dude ranch. They are quite an unusual couple, but somehow they’ve found a way to make it work out, which I guess is more than I can say for me and Andrés. Just the thought of him walking out on me makes more tears well up.

I don’t want Grace to see me like this, so I mumble something about this being a bad time and try to shut the door.  

Grace blocks the door with her foot. “Christina? Is everything okay? We heard a commotion downstairs. Violet saw Andrés leaving with a suitcase.”

“It looked more like a duffel bag,” Violet says.

Grace gives Violet a look, and she shrugs apologetically.  

More tears come, cascading so rapidly, I fear I may puddle the floor. “He left me,” I manage to squeak, though my throat is so constricted, it’s a wonder I can even breathe.  

Grace gasps. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” I turn my gaze toward the floor.  

“Yes, you do,” Grace says sternly.

Damn. After all the shit I went through today, I really don’t need this. I really don’t.

“All I did was go see Ty.”  I wipe my face with my sleeve. I guess I don’t need to worry about ruining this shirt. I doubt I can get red wine out of it anyway.

“Was Jackson with him?” she asks, but her question sounds more like an accusation.

I roll my eyes. “Of course.”

What is it with everyone worrying about me being with Jackson? As if I’d ever go back to him.  

Grace cocks a hand on her hip, her eyes narrowing to slits. “Why do I feel there’s more to this story?”

I don’t know who’s worse, Grace or Andrés. They both treat me like I’m a child. “So you’re taking his side now?”

 She heaves a sigh, still looking at me with that condescending glare. “I’m not taking anyone’s side. I’m trying to figure out what happened.”

I wipe my runny nose with my other sleeve. Okay, this shirt is definitely going straight into the garbage when I take my bath. “It’s the same old shit,” I groan. “I don’t want to have kids.”

She shakes her head. “Not Andrés’s kids, just Tyler.”

“I’m not finished with fucking college!” I clench my hands as rage threatens to split my skull in two. “Will everyone get off my back?”

Grace doesn’t even flinch. She and Violet share a knowing look, an annoyingly knowing look before she turns back to me. “We were on our way out to dinner. We’ll stop by later and check on you. Okay?”

I read pity in her gaze as she squeezes my arm and smiles. I don’t need her pity. I don’t need anyone’s pity. I just need…Andrés. I want to crawl into my bed—our bed—curl up into a ball, and never wake from this nightmare.

“I’ll probably be sleeping,” I barely choke out the words. I need her to be gone now. I don’t want anyone to see me like this.

She arches a finely sculpted brow, that knowing, annoying gleam reflecting in her eyes. “I have your spare key, so if you won’t answer the door, I’m coming in.”

I avert my gaze. I wish she’d go, so I can fall apart in the privacy of my bedroom.

Instead, Grace does the opposite of what I want. She steps across the threshold and pulls me against her. This human contact is too much, the feel of someone holding me, caring for me, sends me over the edge. I clutch Grace’s shoulders and cry so hard, I fear I may drown in my own tears.

“Andrés loves you,” she murmurs against my ear. “I know he does. I know leaving you had to be hard for him.”

Then why’d he do it?
I want to say to her, but I’m too much of a slobbering mess to say anything. 

“I know I’ve told you this before,” Grace continues, “but maybe if I keep telling you, you’ll finally get it. You are nothing like your mother. You never will be. I hope you figure that out before it’s too late.”

She pulls back and looks me over, a crease marring her otherwise smooth brow. My face reddens. I know I look like shit.

“Do you need me to stay with you?” she asks.

I hear Violet grumbling behind her.

“No.” I shake my head. “I think I need a nap.”

It’s been a long day, after all, and the strain from the confrontation with my mother and then getting dumped by the love of my life is starting to wear me down. Not that I think I’ll be able to sleep when my body feels like it’s been split open with a sledgehammer.  

“I’ll be bugging you later,” Grace says before stepping out the door.

I nod and mumble a thank you as they walk away, the clanking of her heels ringing on the pavement in tempo with the muffled scraping sound of Violet’s boots. I close the door and turn, slowly sliding down to the cold tile floor.   

I cry into my hands for what feels like an eternity, before I finally gather the strength to crawl to my bedroom. It feels like my soul has been ripped to shreds and tossed about in a violent storm. What hurts worse is he’s not here to hold me in his arms and whisper that everything will be okay. Because it won’t. Without Andrés, my soul is broken, and I don’t know if I can ever piece it back together.

Chapter Twelve

Andrés

I would like to believe I was roused from bed by the smell of Tia’s cooking, but I’ve been awake for the past two hours, staring at the ceiling and wondering, not for the first time, if I made the right decision.

After a quick shower, I slip into a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and trudge down the stairs. The hot shower did nothing to clear my head. I’m hoping a cup of coffee and breakfast will help me think straight.

My heart keeps telling my brain I’m loco. I should never have left Christina. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.  

But then anger seizes all of my reasoning. I feel like she betrayed me, sneaking over to the country club with her ex-fiancé. Okay, maybe she didn’t sneak, and maybe it wasn’t to see Jackson James, but I still feel like I’ve been stabbed through the heart. It all boils down to the fact that she doesn’t want to have children. She doesn’t leave room for possibilities. What I don’t get is why she refuses to have them, but she’ll spend all evening with another man’s baby.

My jaw drops when I walk into the kitchen. Tia is stirring eggs over the stove. There’s a platter of bacon, waffles, fresh fruit, and breakfast tacos sitting on the counter.

 “Good morning.” Tia smiles up at me as she hands me a steaming cup of coffee. “I made you breakfast.”

Her eyes are red-rimmed, and I can tell she’s been crying. I’m almost afraid to ask why, but I suspect it has to do with my breakup. Tia loves Christina. She’s made that point clear many times already. After I showed up at her door last night and told her we’d broken up, she excused herself and rushed out of the room. I heard her sobbing in her bedroom later that night.

I take a seat at the kitchen counter and look at the blinking clock on the microwave. It’s a quarter till seven, so I’ll need to leave soon if I want to get to work on time. I wish I could go straight to Houston today, but it will have to wait until tomorrow. Tio needs me to work late today. My cousin, Cesar, is supposed to show me his more efficient way of running the Houston shops. I’ll be glad to see him and get my mind off the breakup.

I look down at the steaming plate Tia places in front of me. Normally, I’d scarf it down and ask for seconds, but I don’t have much of an appetite. “Who’s all coming to breakfast?” I ask.

Tia shrugs, setting a bowl of pico de gallo next to my plate. “Just us. Tio left early for work.”

My eyes bulge as I look at the mounds of untouched food on the counter. “This is a lot of food, Tia.”

There has to be a reason why she made all this food. She’s buttering me up for something.  

“It was no bother.” She throws a dishtowel on the counter and takes a seat across from me before giving me a stern look. “Now are you going to tell me what happened?”

No use getting Tia worked up again over my split with Christina. I feel bad enough making her cry last night. I do my best to keep an impassive expression. “We broke up.”

“That much I figured out.” She leans forward, her eyes like twin laser beams boring into me. “What I don’t get is why.”

I pick at a piece of egg. “She doesn’t want to have my kids.”

Tia covers her face with her hands and groans. “This is all my fault.”

I realize now I shouldn’t have come to Tia’s house. I should have driven straight to Houston.

I lean forward and gently pry Tia’s hands away from her face. “No, it’s not,” I tell her. She’s crying again, and I feel like a big bucket of shit for upsetting her.

Tia waves my hands away, wailing. “Yes, yes, I’ve been pushing you two to get married. I need to learn to stay out of my boys’ relationships. First I made a mess out of Cesar’s life and now yours.” Tia blows her nose into a napkin and then dabs her eyes.

I still don’t know all the details on what exactly Tia had done to break up Cesar’s relationship, but it’s bad enough Cesar wouldn’t talk to his mom at Tio’s birthday party.  

But this is different. Tia had every right to push me to get that ring made. She wants to see me happy. Besides, I owe my aunt this much after the way I treated her in the past. I was a reckless, wild youth, nearly throwing away the future my aunt and uncle had worked so hard to give me.

Luckily, the cop who’d pulled me over for drinking and driving was a friend of Tio’s, and rather than take me to jail, he drove me straight to my uncle’s door. I will never forget the look of shame in Tia’s eyes that night, and I’d vowed to never again let her down.