“Have you Googled me?” he asked curiously.
I gave him a quick kiss on the nose. “Of course,” I said. “I wanted to find naked pictures of you, something to get off to while I was in Vancouver.”
He grinned slowly and cocked a brow. “I like that. Did you find any?”
I shook my head. “No. Did you know there is a really fat man from Mexico called Mateo Casalles? He doesn’t have a problem having naked pictures of him.”
He laughed. “Good to know.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ears and tugged on it. “So, I have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise?” Did I like surprises anymore? I wasn’t sure.
“Well, I have two surprises, one you will probably like more than the other. Tonight we are going for dinner at my parents’ house.”
I tried to keep the smile on my face, I really did. But my anxiety wouldn’t let me.
“Don’t look so worried,” he said with a gentle expression. “They will love you and you will love them. And if you don’t love them, you will love Carmen’s food.” Carmen was his stepmother, and he never referred to her as Mom. “Lucia will be there too, of course, and she may bring that man of hers that she’s seeing, so you don’t have to be the only one feeling awkward. He has also not met them yet.”
Well, that would help a bit. I exhaled. I knew I’d have to meet them at some point, but the idea still terrified me. Despite what Lucia said about them, I was so afraid that they wouldn’t like me. I needed them to like me, to like Mateo and I together.
“And,” he went on, “as your reward for getting through dinner, as well as an attempt to put a smile on your face again, and to escape this damn heat, I am taking us tomorrow morning to Barcelona. I took time off work and there are no more meetings with the lawyer for a bit—we can stay in the apartment there. Five days on the beach. What do you say?”
Well, that did put an actual smile on my face.
“Really?” I exclaimed. “We can just go there?”
“Of course,” he said. “You are my Estrella. Anything for you.”
“Anything?” I asked seductively. I slowly raised the hem of my skirt until he saw I wasn’t wearing underwear.
I could practically see him salivating, his eyes going glossy with lust. “Especially that,” he growled. I lay back on the couch as he buried his head in between my legs.
Soon, I was smiling a second time.
Chapter Twenty-Five
It took me ages to get ready for his parents’ house. I was trying on everything I owned, experimenting with my hair and makeup, trying to make myself look as demure as possible. I eventually settled on a long-sleeved navy blue dress, form-fitting but cleavage-covering, and pulled my hair back into a braid that covered up the tats on my neck. I wasn’t taking any chances with these people.
On the car ride over there, I was starting to crack a bit. My breathing felt restricted, my thoughts chaotic. I kept rubbing my palms over and over again on my dress. I’d had panic attacks as a teenager, after the divorce, and this felt like one of those episodes all over again.
I couldn’t hide it from Mateo. He took one look at me and pulled the car over to the side of the highway, so private and public at the same time.
“Vera,” he said, twisting in his seat, putting his hands on my face. “Look at me, Vera.”
I managed to meet his eyes, overwhelmed by the panic in them, as if he was feeling how I was feeling, absorbing my emotions for his own.
“Vera,” he said, his voice low, soothing but strong. “You’re okay. You are with me, yes? You are here and you are okay. Just breathe. Breathe in slowly. Breathe out slowly.”
I did as he asked, trying to focus on my breath going in and out of my body. Eventually my heart rate slowed and I was starting to feel more centered and in control.
“Oh, my Estrella,” he said softly. He pressed a gentle kiss on my forehead. “What happened?” he murmured.
I swallowed. “I don’t know,” I said weakly. “I just…I’m just so afraid. So afraid.”
He sighed and wrapped his arms around me. “I know you are. And it’s okay to be afraid. But, you will see…my parents are not your parents.” I flinched slightly, the memories of my mother and Mercy slamming into me. I had told him all about them—he knew. He went on, “You deserve good people in your life and happiness. Trust me, my family is good people.”
“They won’t like me,” I said, nearly sobbing. “The deck is stacked against us, Mateo. There are too many things wrong about me.”
“Vera,” he said sharply. He pulled back and peered intently into my eyes, commanding me to listen to him. “Do you know why I love you?”
I tried to think, and in my frazzled state came up with nothing. “I have no idea.”
“I love you because you are you. You’re a little bit crazy, and I find that more interesting than being normal. You’re passionate and I find that more fascinating than being calm. You’re curious and adventurous and sexual, and you’re full of life and you make me want to be a better man, to live louder, to bend and break all the damn rules.” He kissed me hard and I was so shocked by it, shocked by his words, I didn’t have time to reciprocate before he broke away. “And those are all the reasons why my parents will fall in love with you too.”
I gave him a shy smile. “Well, except for the sexual bit.”
“Hey, they are happy as long as I am happy. And Vera, you make me happier than I have ever been. Even now, even with all this shit going on around us, I am still happy because I have you—by my side and in my bed. We will get through this. I promise you. I swear on the stars.” He raised my hand to his lips and ran them over my knuckles.
My lip quivered. Fuck, I was getting really tired of getting so weepy all the time, but at least now these were happy tears.
Mr. and Mrs. Casalles lived in a two-story stucco house on the outskirts of the city, in a nicely kept suburban neighborhood. It kind of reminded me of home, except all the houses had this wonderful Spanish-style architecture and the gardens were a lot more colorful.
Mateo pulled the car up into the driveway beside Lucia’s Mercedes. It was funny—the car that Mateo drove was just a black SUV, nowhere near as flashy as his sister’s, even though he could obviously afford a Mercedes himself. I liked that about Mateo, how he had quite a bit of wealth, but aside from the suits and the apartments, he didn’t really flaunt it.
I got out of the car, conscious of my every step, every movement, walking in slow motion. He came around to my side and looped his arm through mine.
“Did I tell you yet how beautiful you look?” he asked, grinning down at me.
“No,” I said. “Did I forget to tell you the same?”
He stroked along his beard, holding his face in his hand. “This old thing?”
We walked up the stairs to the porch and rang the doorbell. I was surprised he didn’t barge right into the house.
I held my breath as I heard footsteps on the other side. The door opened and an older man with a thick grey beard and glasses peered out at us. He was a tad shorter than Mateo, slightly portly, and I was immediately reminded of a thinner George R. R. Martin. He even had a fisherman’s cap on.
“Papa,” Mateo said with a respectful nod.
His father smiled only slightly at his son and then fixed his eyes on me. He raised his bushy silver eyebrows and said something in Spanish to Mateo.
Mateo looked to me. “Papa doesn’t speak English. But he thinks you’re very pretty.”