Page 15 of The Spring in My Heart

For me and half of New York.

I chuckle. “One I would gladly throw back in the Hudson River.”

“No man is going to be perfect, Luciana. He’s a good man, with a great profession and impeccable taste. You never hear anything salacious about him. He’s handsome and well-known. You’ve always made a handsome couple.”

Now I do laugh.

“Do you not read the papers? He’s always with some chick—you know what, it doesn’t matter. I am done. He seems to have accepted that. It’s time for you to do the same.”

I get the death stare, the one that used to keep me quiet as a mouse as a kid. She’s always known how to make her disapproval known without many words. It’s almost a relief because her next technique is to freeze me or my brothers out. Only, I’m not so lucky this time.

“Let’s go have some tea.”

I shake my head. “I really can’t. Maybe next time—” The lie doesn’t make it out of my mouth.

She follows the death stare with a grip on my wrist. “You can spare an hour to have tea with your mother.”

Kill me now.

I could insist, but then she would get whiny and even more manipulative. “Okay. Let’s go grab a cup of tea, and then I really have to get going.”

We take a car service—no Uber or cabs for Marilyn Blake—and head to the Baroque, her favorite tearoom. I know better than to suggest a Starbucks. She needs bone china, chintz decor, and expensive prices for mediocre herbal blends you can find anywhere.

During the drive, I apply a little concealer, eyeshadow, and lipstick. I pull out a scarf from my tote and tie it into that elegant knot everyone’s so crazy about. I put my earrings back on and prepare for inspection.

She looks at me, and her gaze softens. “You’re so beautiful, Luciana. Like I was at your age. I had so many suitors come calling my mother didn’t know what to do.” Her laugh echoes of yesterday, turning her into someone different than the woman who shrieks and manipulates her children.

It’s jarring because I know who she is. Her compliments are like an acid bath.

Just grin and bear it, Lux. Get this over with. “Thank you.”

“This is the way you should always look.”

Welcome back, Marilyn.

As we make it inside the tearoom, the weight of hanging out with her presses down my shoulders, popping out kinks the masseuse worked hard to smooth out. On the car ride, I concentrated on making myself ready by her standards. That kept me from internalizing this whole thing. Now we’re alone in the sense that her attention will be solely on me, and I’ll have to stay in the moment because there’s no Chase or Cam to split the burden with.

My chest tightens as the doorman pulls the handle on the door and lets us in. The desire to spin and run spreads over my body. The red, brown, and gold wallpaper swallows us in, trapping me in with her.

Stop being a child. You can do this. You don’t always need your big brothers.

“Mrs. Blake,” the hostess beams, her eyes bright and dancing in the light. “We were waiting for you.”

How the hell? She didn’t know she was going to see me.

“I always have a standing reservation on Mondays,” my mother says before following the hostess. I have no choice but to trail behind them. As we cross the threshold into one of the rooms, I look past the divider screen, and my gaze collides with Mateo who is standing up from a table. His eyes round, and then his lips curve.

My face begins to tingle. This is not happening to me. I shake my head because hell no.

“Mateo,” my mom squeals.

“Marilyn,” I say, my voice low but carrying the jagged edge that is knifing through my insides. I wait until she turns to me. “I’m leaving.”

I turn to walk away, and her hand clamps on my wrist. “Don’t make a scene, Luciana. If you storm off, everyone will be talking. Let’s just head to our table.”

“I don’t care. People already talk about me anyway. Let me get out of here.”

“Please, Luxxy.” Mateo is suddenly in front of me in a raspberry-red shirt that seems to have bled out of the wallpaper pattern. “Don’t go. Please. I don’t expect your forgiveness or for us to get back together. I just want the chance to apologize to you. I don’t want to end on bad terms.”

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