I throw myself on the couch, covering my eyes with the crook of my elbow.
Santiago drags my arm away from my face. “What’s wrong?”
I blink up at him, catching the frown on his face. “Matteo is firing me because the busy season is dying down; I haven’t made any progress in our relationship.” I spit out all the facts like word vomit.
“Maybe this is for the best.”
I bolt up from my position. “How can you say that?”
Santiago takes a seat beside me. “Because you’ve been putting this off for months already.”
I scowl. “Things like this take time.”
“And things like this take courage.”
“I’m courageous.”
“Trust me, I’m well aware. Not many people would’ve accomplished what you did to begin with.” He offers me a timid smile.
“Then what’s your point?”
“Chloe…” He grabs onto my hand and laces our fingers together. “You’ve been helping me, and it’s time I do the same.”
My eyes dart to the opposite side of the living room, focusing on the painting hanging above the brick fireplace.
He squeezes my hand, forcing me to focus back on him. “You need to tell him.”
“But what if he rejects me?”
“A wise and sassy woman taught me how things we fear the most are often worth overcoming because it’s not about the risk. It’s about the reward.”
“Who is this wise woman and where can I find her?”
He cracks a smile. “Don’t let the opportunity slip away. You’ll end up regretting it, and that’s not your style.”
“Since when did you get all enlightened and stuff?”
“Since you came into my life.”
That feeling inside of me? Where my heart races and my chest grows uncomfortably tight? It’s not something I’ll forget in this lifetime. It feels a lot like love, and I’m not sure what to make of it.
Dammit, Santiago Alatorre.
My fork rattles against the ceramic plate as I push my dinner around in circles. Our goodbye dinner has been nothing but pleasant. With good conversations and great food, thanks to Santiago, it should be amazing to sit with my father. No distractions, no son blabbing away. Santiago isn’t even here vying for everyone’s attention since he left the house earlier to give me privacy.
Everything was set up to make tonight perfect, but in reality, this dinner is an epic fail. I can’t gather the courage to say what I need to. It’s like my tongue loses the will to move every time I think about speaking out.
Matteo takes a swig of wine, not a care in the world. “This dinner was incredible, Chloe. I appreciate you taking the time to do this for me.”
My stomach muscles clench. “Of course. I honestly couldn’t have done it without Santiago though. He cooked half of this.” Okay, he cooked all of it, but whatever.
“Well, you sure landed yourself a good man. If they can cook, keep them.”
“And if they can clean, marry them.”
Matteo laughs. “I see you’ve picked up on a few things besides my coffee skills during our time together.”
I struggle to smile. The tightness in my chest grows as I consider Matteo leaving me behind.
Matteo fumbles with his pocket. “And speaking of our time together…I think you deserve this after all you’ve done for the shop. I’ve never seen it look better.” He slides an envelope over the wooden dining table.
A mist covers my eyes as I assess the sealed envelope. Oh, God. Am I really going to cry because he is giving me money?
No, you’re going to cry because this is the first time a parent wants to take care of you rather than steal from you.
I blink away the tears in a rush, not wanting to scare Matteo. “I can’t accept that.”
“Of course you can. You barely made any money during the time you worked for me. And I’ve never had an employee work as hard as you. Not even my own son, and he owns part of the place.”
Despite the shitstorm of emotions brewing inside of me, I can’t neglect the sense of pride filling me up. Sibling rivalry at its finest. “I should be thanking you. Not many people would take a chance on teaching a random person their business secrets.”
Matteo smiles. “It was my pleasure, truly. Even if you can only make smiley foam faces in your cappuccinos.” He wipes his face and places his napkin on the table.
Is he leaving already? I eye the clock. Shit. It’s been an hour already.
My heart pounds in my chest, the speed picking up as Matteo rises from his chair.