Say When (15 page)

Something else about this new job of mine: I am realizing I don’t need a man to provide for me. Jackson will probably earn in one day what I earn in a week once he starts working for his father’s company, but that doesn’t bother me. Marrying rich has always been my mother’s idea, not mine. I just want to be with a man who makes me happy. Is that so much to ask?

Speaking of my mom, I’m so busy, I only see her once, and that’s just to stop by for a change of clothes. She doesn’t say a word to me as I rush inside and shove panties and jeans into my bag. I’m driving myself to work now that the crew finally convinced Andrés they’ll be on their best behavior. I follow him to the little taco place for breakfast every morning, and then he brings me lunch every day. I spend my days working at Tio’s shop, and my nights making love to Andrés, but in between, I’m over at Mrs. Peterson’s house.

Yeah, there’s a reason Karri never showed up to pick up Tyler. She’s in jail. Busted for buying drugs off an undercover officer. Mrs. Peterson isn’t making Karri’s bail. She’s letting her daughter sit in that cell as long as possible, hoping she’ll have time to detox. I hope so, but I don’t get my hopes up. In the meantime, Mrs. Peterson has Tyler full-time. I come over each evening to give Mrs. Peterson a few hours to clean her house and take a break. The poor woman looks so drained by the time I show up.

Andrés has gone with me twice to Mrs. Peterson’s house. I’m totally amazed at how much Tyler loves Andrés. Tyler squeals and giggles wildly when Andrés chases him around the floor on all fours. I love how good Andrés is with him. My dad never gave me the time of day until I developed boobs. I wonder what kind of father Andrés would make, and then I berate myself for caring. I’m not having kids with him, or with anyone, so it doesn’t matter. There’s no way I’m bringing a helpless baby into this world, not when I’ve seen how ugly the world can be.

But despite my resolve, I have this stupid crazy dream that Andrés and I are married with two daughters. They are adorable, with tanned skin, long black hair, and big green eyes. As if the dream isn’t stressful enough, Andrés’s horrifying screams wake me.

“No! No! No!” He’s tossing and turning and pounding the bed. “Save him! Please!”

I jerk up and turn on the light before gently shaking him. When he finally comes to, his eyes are glossy, and the pain in his features is enough to break my heart.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” he says as he sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes.

I place my hand over his. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head, turns his palm up, and squeezes my hand. Then he kisses me on the cheek, rolls over, and goes back to sleep.

I lie down next to him and wrap my arm around his waist. I don’t say anything, but I’m worried. I’m pretty sure his dream pertains to his time in the war. We haven’t discussed his other life before, but there are times when we’re eating lunch, he stiffens and gets this haunted expression in his eyes. It only lasts for a few minutes, but it’s long enough that I know Andrés is battling inner demons. As I lie here beside him, I want to tell Andrés I’m here for him, but I can already hear his deep breathing, and I don’t want to wake him.

I know how ugly those demons can get, because one time I nearly let my past ruin my future. The one-year anniversary of the night my father raped me, I overdosed on Ecstasy. If it wasn’t for Karri, I would have died. The other teens at the party were afraid they’d get busted if she called an ambulance, but she called one, anyway. Two days in the hospital and several months of my mother’s incessant nagging cured me of my addiction.

Besides, if I allowed my father’s abuse to drive me to an early grave, he would have won. He’s taken so much away from me already. I’ll be damned if I will let him take away my future.

* * *

Andrés knows he should be grateful for five nights in a row with no nightmares. He keeps telling himself last night was just a fluke. Besides, the dream only lasted a few moments, and then Christina was there holding him, soothing him as he fell back to sleep. Andrés feels a wave of shame wash over him when he realizes she’s seen him cry. He doesn’t want her to know about the dreams, about the guilt he carries with him each day for surviving the attack that killed his best friend.

But now she knows he’s damaged. He’s not just some Latin Adonis, as she’s affectionately called him more than once. He has a much darker side, one that he is afraid to share for fear she’ll turn and run in the other direction.

He sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed. He smells coffee brewing and hears the shower running. He’s usually the one to wake up first and make the coffee. He wonders why she let him sleep in. Was it out of pity? Another wave of shame washes over him.

Andrés’s gaze settles on his phone on the nightstand and he knows why the nightmare resurfaced. Letty called him while he was at work yesterday. They still share some mutual friends, and she wanted to know if he’d heard about Michael’s birthday party. Actually, he hadn’t heard about it, which just shows how dependable his friends are. Maybe they blame him like he blames himself. Like Letty blames him.

Judging by the tone of her voice, Andrés knows Letty was trying to discourage him from coming down, but there is no way he is going to miss it. He’s made a promise to his best friend, and he isn’t about to break it. He is determined to drive down to San Antonio this weekend, even if it means the nightmares will come back.

* * *

It’s Friday morning, my last day of work before the weekend. We’re eating chorizo and egg burritos, loaded with extra salsa. Usually during breakfast, we share little parts of ourselves, nothing too deep that I can’t handle. For instance, I tell Andrés my dad died of a heart attack three years ago. I do not tell him my dad was a disgusting, rapist assnugget. No, I decide to leave that part off. I do tell him that my parents weren’t really there for me while I was growing up, and my mom and I don’t exactly have the same values.

I learn his mom died when he was a child, and his aunt and uncle raised him. He never mentions his father, so I let it go. After all, I can totally relate. I think we’re done making small talk, but I can tell Andrés has something else on his mind. He glances away when I catch him eyeing me.

He’s making me uncomfortable and ruining my euphoric breakfast experience. How can I enjoy the warm, buttery tortilla and spicy eggs and meat when he’s eyeing me like that? What is up with him? I’m going crazy thinking of the possibilities. I hope he’s not going to ask me to wear his ring or permanently move in with him. I’m not ready for that kind of commitment. Or worse, maybe he’s grown tired of me and is ready to call it quits. Maybe he wants to talk about his dream last night. That’s what I’m hoping, anyway. I’d rather discuss his demons than have to tell him we need to slow down.

He swallows a gulp of coffee and clears his throat.

I clutch the side of the table, looking into his penetrating eyes.

His hands are shaking, and I think I see a bead of sweat on his brow.

Oh, Gawd, I shouldn’t have stayed every night at his apartment.

“I’m going to a party in San Antonio this weekend,” he says on a rush of air. “Do you want to come?”

I quirk a brow. “A party? What kind of party?”

Okay, little known fact about me, despite all of my “issues,” I still love a good party, as long as there’s games and free beer.

He shrugs, and I can tell he’s uncomfortable; he averts his gaze more than once. “It’s just a birthday party for my friend’s kid.”

My face falls. I instantly regret my reaction, but I’ve got an expressive face and am not good at hiding my feelings. I shouldn’t have taken him to see Tyler. Next, Andrés will want me to meet his family, and then I’ll feel obligated to introduce him to my mother, which I know will end badly.

“We only have to stay an hour, and then we can tour The Riverwalk,” he says. “I’ll book us a room overlooking the water.”

Only an hour? Okay, much better. Maybe this party is more of an obligation and not a way for him to bring our relationship to the next level.

“That sounds nice,” I say before taking a sip of coffee. The warm beverage is soothing, and I swirl it in my mouth for a minute in an attempt to calm my nerves. I shouldn’t be rattled over a little birthday party, anyway.

“I’ll understand if you don’t want to go.” His voice deflates with every word. “I don’t want to go, either.” His shoulders slump and he looks down at his half-eaten taco.

“Then why don’t you cancel?” I ask.

He jerks his head up, and there is resolve in his eyes. “I made a promise to my friend, and I have to keep it.”

I’ve lived a lifetime of broken promises: parents breaking their vows to one another, and then breaking my trust, as well. I’ve had friends and then Jackson let me down more times than I can count. Wouldn’t it be awesome if Andrés wasn’t like the others? But I don’t dare allow myself the chance to hope. Things are going great now, but that doesn’t mean they’ll stay that way. There’s got to be something wrong with him.

I look intently at Andrés. “Do you keep all of your promises?”

“Yes.” He says this without batting an eye.

My parents took me to The Riverwalk when I was twelve. I’ll never forget the beauty of the place. We’d eaten at a little cantina along the river, and I just couldn’t take in enough of the sights around me. Shady live oaks lined the path beside the colorful restaurants, Mariachi bands played lively music, and a family of ducks splashed in the water just a few feet from my chair.

A beautiful setting for what could have been a perfect day had I been with reasonable, sane parents. But my mom and dad were bickering again. She was calling him swear words, and then they both screamed at the waiter who’d interrupted their argument to ask for their order.

Everyone was looking at us, and I was so humiliated. I slouched in my chair, wishing I could sink deep beneath the table, all the way to China. I had brought my sketch pad along, but I was no longer in the mood to draw, even though I had my sights on that family of ducks. We ended up driving back to Austin that night rather than staying at our riverside hotel.

Most of our family vacations usually ended the same way.

I wonder what a trip to the Alamo City would be like with Andrés. As I look at the warmth reflected in his eyes, I have a feeling our trip will have a happier ending.

Besides, my fingers are itching to capture the beauty of the river, and not just with a sketch pad. I want to capture all the colors of San Antonio. “Can I bring my paints?”

For the first time this morning, Andrés breaks into a wide grin. “Sure.” Then he leans over and kisses my cheek.

For the moment, I think going on this trip is a good decision. For the moment, I even dare to hope Andrés isn’t like all of the other people who’ve let me down.

Chapter Eighteen

The Alamo City is more beautiful than I remember. Maybe it has something to do with who I’m with. It’s late Saturday morning. Andrés was able to check us into our hotel early, so I’m standing on the second floor balcony, soaking up the sights and sounds of The Riverwalk. Bright red and blue boats drift by carrying rows of tourists, who admire the sights. Despite the warm summer, there’s a cool breeze blowing through the branches of the overhanging trees. I have already spotted several duck families meandering on the river. The faint sound of mariachi music carries from one of the restaurants below.

And the smell. Heavenly.

I’ve already spotted where I want to have dinner, a local rib joint we passed this morning on a brief tour of The Riverwalk. Andrés is writing a message on a birthday card for his friend’s kid. He’s lost in thought, and I wonder why it’s so difficult to sign a card, but I don’t say anything because I’m frantically moving my brush across the canvas, trying to capture as many scenes as possible. The river and duck family are finished, but the rest of the landscape has so much color and character, I realize I could paint all day and all evening if I had the time.

I hear movement behind me and sense Andrés is finished with his card.

“Do you mind if we get going?” he asks. “The party is at noon, and I’ve never been there before.”

That’s odd, because on the way down here I thought I remember Andrés telling me this little boy’s father was his best friend’s son.

“You’ve never been to your best friend’s house?” I say, but I know my question sounds more like an accusation, and I don’t mean for it to come out this way.

“I’ve been to his house,” he says. “But his family moved to a new one after he died.”

“Oh.” I barely mouth the words. Now I get why he had to go to this party. Andrés’s words from yesterday come back to haunt me.
I made a promise to my friend.

I suspect his friend died when they were fighting together. Andrés probably promised he’d look after his friend’s family, but I’m afraid I’ll upset him if I ask for more details. I’ll wait until Andrés is ready to tell me the entire story. Until then, I get the feeling this party is going to be more than awkward.

* * *

It takes almost an hour to drive to this place, a little ranch house on the outside of San Antonio. There are plenty of shady oaks on the property, which is good, because the sun is already bearing down on us. There’s a corral in back with horses, and I can hear kids splashing in a pool. As I wipe a bead of sweat off my brow, I’m wishing I would have brought my bathing suit from the hotel. I could actually go for a swim.

I peek over at Andrés as we walk across the gravel to the front door. Deep lines are etched in his forehead. He’s frowning as he clutches a box wrapped in blue dinosaurs.

I grab his hand and entwine my fingers through his. His palm is sweaty, and I get the feeling it’s not just because of the heat.

There’s already a woman standing behind the screen door when we walk up the porch steps. The porch is decorated with blue and green balloons with a big “Happy Birthday Michael” banner stretching across the top.

But Andrés is not looking at the banner. His gaze is centered on the scowling woman. She’s young, probably a few years older than me, and very pretty, with tanned skin and large almond eyes.