Page 59 of Fixer for the Billionaire

Ingrata. Ungrateful.

A word I've heard my whole life.

"Mamá, that's not true," I interject. "We appreciate everything you did for us."

Quentin gives me a knowing look and turns to my mom. "I'm sure your children are grateful for all that you've done for them. And they probably show it in their own ways." He gives her a gentle smile. "But right now, I'd love to learn more about you and your journey. Carmina's always got great things to say about you."

My mom's face softens, and my back stiffens.

It's a lie. I've never shared anything about my mother with Quentin that could technically classify as “great.”

She seems to smell the lie, leaning forward. "You're a handsome young man. Well put-together. Successful-looking. You don't have to lie to an old lady like me." She looks over at me, a sneer imprinting on her softly lined face. "I'm sure Carmina has filled up your head with all types of lies about me. About my 'journey.'"

I shake my head. “It’s called codependency, Mamá.”

"Whatever fancy term you want to use for it. It's all the same. I'm just a crazy woman who couldn't handle being a mother." She turns back to Quentin, her voice dripping with bitterness. "Do you know she took my babies from me?"

"I didn't," I affirm, but my voice comes out shaking. "You left them. Alone. For two weeks! Valeria couldn’t find her EpiPen. She almost died! What exactly was I supposed to do?"

"You were supposed to let them stay with their mother!"

"A mother who left them behind? A father who doesn’t give a damn?” I snap back, unable to hold it in any longer. "Do you know how hard it is to grow up with parents who can't even take care of themselves, let alone anyone else? Who won't even try?"

"Oh, here we go. Another sob story from my ungrateful child."

I clench my fists, feeling the anger rise within me. "I'm not even asking for you to get well for us. I'm asking for you to get well for yourself. So you can finally be happy and healthy."

She scoffs, standing. "What, like you? You think you can walk in here with your fancy black dress and your fancy man and pretend you're better than me?" She points. "You're just like me, Carmina! And don't you forget that."

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. I stand, too, and to my surprise, Quentin stands beside me. His hand breezes against the small of my back, and it's the only thing keeping my knees from buckling.

"Tengo respeto para ti, Mamá. Claro. Pero ya no puedo este. I have to be twice the parent to those girls that you and your husbands were to all of us. You can bet on that. And I'm sorry if saying that hurts you. But I can't keep pretending everything is okay when it's not. I need to take care of myself and our family now."

She shakes her head, graying waves of hair falling out of her bun. "Selfish little girl," she mutters. She gestures towards Quentin. "You think a man like this is going to stick around once he sees the full you? He's going to run. Just like my husbands did."

I feel tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.

I pause, taking a deep breath when Quentin steps forward, his jaw set as firmly as his voice.

"Pardon me, Miss Herrera, but I would never run from Carmina. She is the strongest and most resilient person I know." I look up at him, gratitude filling my heart. He squeezes my hand before turning back to my mother. "Carmina deserves someone who will cherish, appreciate, and support her. And that's exactly what I intend to do."

Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t say anything. She just turns away and walks back to her room, slamming the door behind her.

As I stand there, relief and sadness swirling within me, Quentin turns to me and touches my cheek. "You ready to go now?"

I nod, finding a smile. "Whenever you are."

We leave without another word, and I can feel the weight of my mother's disapproval lighten as we reach the door. The sound of our footsteps echoes as we exit onto the rickety wooden porch, the nighttime air cool against my skin.

I take a deep breath of fresh air, feeling like I can finally breathe again as my feet move quickly.

Before I can even process why, I head off in the opposite direction of our parked car. I make it several steps before Quentin stops me, grabbing my shoulders.

"Hold on there, Speed Racer," he says, his voice low. "Where exactly are we going?"

I sigh, realizing I didn't even have a plan. "I don't know. Just away from there." I pause. "Actually, I'm lying. I used to walk this way as a kid. There’s a beautiful view of the Bay nearby."

"The Bay, huh? Sounds like a good place to clear our heads and figure out what the hell we're going to do next." He turns to the driver standing idly by the car. "Eddie, got a blanket in the trunk?"

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