They roll down my skin like raindrops, falling in quick succession. The last time I cried like this, my dad was being placed in the ground. While the hole in my chest has healed since then, the dull pain has never left, returning at the most inconvenient times.
Te extra?o, Papi: I miss you, Dad.
My shoulders shake.
Take five. My dad would grip my shoulders and force me to copy his movements.
Again, he would say when the original five-count didn’t work. The tears don’t stop, but my panic lessens with each exaggerated breath.
At some point after breath number thirty-five, I pull myself together and reach for the first Lopez heirloom I see. My fingers tremble, but I’m quick to stop it by tightening my hold around the base of the hammer.
I step toward my old workstation. My mom might have accidentally placed a few tools in the wrong area, but everything else remains the same, down to the last project I was working on before I left for college.
The half-finished jewelry box was meant to be a special Christmas gift for Dahlia. Over the years, we mainly stuck to gag gifts or presents our mothers picked out, but the Christmas before everything went to shit was supposed to be different.
We were supposed to be different.
After the kiss we shared, I knew we couldn’t go back to the way things were before, and I didn’t want to. I wanted so much more.
But then my dad died, and my mom spiraled into another deep depression, which I felt responsible for helping her through. I shelved my own grief—a stupid decision in the long run—and pushed Dahlia away after calling her a distraction.
I let my insecurities get in the way of what I wanted, and my fears of not being good enough for her consumed me until I couldn’t stand the idea of being with her. She had all these dreams, and I was a broken mess with the odds stacked against me.
Now is your chance to right your wrongs.
Pain blossoms in my chest as I hold up the incomplete jewelry box. I want to find that courage again, starting with facing my biggest obstacle to date.
Overcoming my past.
With shaky hands and a pounding heart, I grab a few more of the Lopez tools and get to work on finishing the jewelry box. I don’t know how long I meticulously obsess over the project, but I’m addicted to the adrenaline pumping through my veins.
By the time I finish, I’m sweating all over and heaving like I ran a marathon. I use the hem of my shirt to wipe my damp forehead before checking out the final product.
One day, I plan on giving Dahlia the jewelry box. I’m just not sure when.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Dahlia
“Looks like the reality TV princess finally decided to return to her tequila throne.” Lorenzo drops into the stool beside me and places his whiskey glass on the counter.
“Don’t you have anything better to do with your time than hang out here?” I scan the relatively empty bar.
He shrugs. “Not really.”
“You need a job.”
His brow rises. “At eight p.m. on a Tuesday?”
“How about a hobby, then?”
“Does plotting against my enemies count?”
My brows rise. “You have enemies? In Lake Wisteria?”
He laughs into his glass, although the sound comes off as chilling and haunted rather than warm and hearty.
“What are you doing here?” he asks before I have a chance to follow up.
“Meeting up with my sister.” I check my phone for the third time within the last ten minutes. When I called for an emergency girls’ night, Lily suggested we meet at Last Call after she closed the shop for the night, claiming she was craving their curly fries.
“Lily, right?”
I turn to glare at him. “Why are you asking?”
He ignores my question and asks one of his own. “Is she single?”
My eyes narrow. “No.”
“Hm. Who’s the guy?”
“Jesus, so don’t bother hitting on her.”
“She wants to become a nun?”
“Close. Virgin until marriage.” I swallow back a giggle before it gives me away.
Lorenzo’s upper lip curls with disgust. “Great.”
I wave Henry over and order two seltzers.
A few minutes later, the door to the bar slams open, and my sister barrels inside wearing my favorite winter coat and stolen designer boots. She shrugs it off with a shiver, revealing another one of my outfits.
“I could kill her.”
Lorenzo’s eyes darken as they trail down my sister’s body.
I swat the back of his head. “Stop checking out my sister!”
He drains the rest of his whiskey before raising his hand to request another.
My eyes roll as I slide off the barstool and drag Lily to the other side of the bar, far away from Lorenzo’s burning gaze.
“Since when are you friends with Lorenzo?” she asks with a frown.
“You know him?”
“Not really.” Her nose twitches. “He passes by the shop every Friday to pick up two custom bouquets.”
“And?”
She shrugs. “I don’t have a good feeling about him.”
Maybe Julian was right about Lorenzo after all, and it’s best for us to stay far away.
At least Lily doesn’t seem interested in him.
Lily shimmies into the booth across from me. “So, what was this emergency meeting for?”
I pass the unopened vodka seltzer can. “I’m having a dilemma.”
She laughs to herself. “You’re quite famous for them.”
“I’m being serious.”
My sister takes a sip of her drink after opening it. “All right. What’s going on?”
“I got an offer for a new show I pitched.”
“Congrats!” She taps her can against mine before locking eyes. “Or not?”
I slump against the table. “It’s in San Francisco.”
“That’s far.”
My shoulders slump. “Julian says he is willing to move…”
“But you don’t believe him?”
I fidget with my jacket’s zipper. “More like I’m afraid he will follow through with his promise.”
Her head tilts. “Now I’m confused. Shouldn’t that make you happy?”
“I don’t want him to change his whole life for me.” He could come to regret his decision and resent me in the process, and I don’t know if I would overcome that kind of heartbreak a second time.
Lily reaches for my hand. “Have you considered that he might not only be doing this for you but also for himself?”
I stay quiet, and Lily fills the silence with another shocking revelation. “Julian has been saying he wants to scale back on his job for years, but he never made a move to do so, despite how obvious it was to everyone around him that he should.”
I blink a few times. “Really?”
“Yes. So imagine how surprised we all were when he suddenly began working on a project with you, started visiting his construction sites more often, and can’t stop smiling when he speaks about working on new houses with you—something he hasn’t done in at least two years.”
A lump forms in my tight throat. “He… I…”
Lily gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. “And don’t get me started on the carpentry thing. Everyone in town won’t stop talking about how he was so jealous that he gave a guy a promotion to keep him away from you.”