Page 28 of Shameless in Vegas

I love her.

I love her.

I love her.

It’s only been about a week since the day I woke up with Natalia, a complete stranger, in my bed, but apparently a week was all it took.

Idolove her.

I consider the fact that everything I know about her tells me she’s basically alone in the world, and after Papá’s latest shitty dismissal of me, I feel like I might as well be also. All of Natalia’s behavior and words this entire time have practically screamed that she is my ride-or-die, andnowall I care about is being that for her, too.

When I reach the dining room, Natalia’s politely chatting with Mamá and Lili, and at least there’s that. At least everyoneelsewho matters has no hang-ups or issues that stand in the way of welcoming her into this family with loving, open arms. And I’ll give them the opportunity to keep doing that for her, but not today. Not right now when Papá’s about to come back to this dining room and most assuredly make Natalia feel like shit just for being here with me.

I stop next to Natalia’s chair and hold out my hand. “Let’s go, baby doll.”

She turns her big, worried blue eyes up to me, and her full lips form a perfect O. “Amor?”

“You do not need to go,mijito,” Mamá says urgently. “Let him cool off. We will sort through this.”

Natalia takes my hand, and I help her stand up. “He can do whatever he’s going to do, but we’re getting out of here for a while. I’m not sticking around after he disrespected Natalia like that.”

Lili points at me with her fork. “I’m headed to New Orleans this weekend for a bachelorette party if you guys want to tag along.”

Mamá turns to Lili and cocks her head. “Again? Don’t any of your friends know how to host a bachelorette party anywhereelse?”

Lili shrugs flippantly. “No?”

Natalia meets my gaze below a troubled crinkle between her brows and whispers, “What did he do to you?”

Her concern for me iseverything, and I kiss her forehead. “He made me see exactly what matters most to me.” Taking her hand, I give it a tug to escort her out of the dining room while offering a mere wave to my mother and sister. “Sorry to have to run out on you guys like this.”

Mamá utters an exasperated sigh. “Come back later and we’ll sort it out,mijo. It was lovely meeting you, Natalia. Don’t let any of this scare you off. The rest of us are happy.”

Natalia offers a gracious glance over her shoulder. “Gracias por todo, suegra.”

I usher her out the front doors and straight to my car. Once we’re in, I fire up the engine and peel out of the drive with such intensity that Natalia grips my arm to steady herself against the force of me taking the turn too quickly.

“Where are we going,cariño? Are we just leaving forever?”

I kick the engine into a higher gear and then pick up her hand to kiss the back of it. “No, baby doll. We’re just gonna stay in the city for a little bit while I figure out what we’re going to do.” I grit my teeth and shake my head. “If he’s gonna be like that, I don’t fucking need him. And youdefinitelydon’t.”

I feel the weight of her eyes on me for a moment before she leans toward me, resting her head on my shoulder. “I’m sorry if I caused him to be cruel to you.”

“Youdidn’t,” I clip, “and I only care that he was cruel to you.”

Natalia rests her hand on my abs and offers a comforting rub. “I am lucky to be with such a kind, sweet man.”

Turning my head, I press a kiss to her temple and rest my chin on top of her head. The three little words threaten to spill out of my mouth, but the feeling is still so new that I don’t feel ready to verbalize it, especially in the heat of a moment like this. I haven’t done anything about this marriage properly, so when I tell herthat,it needs to be perfect.

“It means a lot that you feel that way,” I tell her honestly. “Because I’m damn lucky to be with such a solid woman.”

EIGHT

NATALIA

JOAQUIN’S HASTE TO GET us away from Ernesto is going to spell consequences for me. Both of my phones—the dummy phone I pretend is mineandthe real phone, which is stowed discreetly under his mattress—are still at his parents’ estate, leaving me no ability to contact Xavier and inform him of this unexpected delay. The fact that I’m going to catch hell for this is the understatement of a lifetime—and I actually wouldn’t put it past Xavier to abandon the cartel’s carefully laid plans and simply murder both Joaquinandme, and figure out some other way to target Ernesto’s fortune.

Three days after the blow up with his father, Joaquin has treated us to all the finest entertainment and dining that New York City has to offer. On this particular night, he’s taken me to a piano bar in the Flatiron District, where the emcee is a pianist who takes pop song requests and plays them in a jazzy, swing, ragtime style. The atmosphere is dark and sultry, with little more than candles in little, red glass containers at each table’s center lighting the room. The pianist is a handsome guy in his thirties, wearing a swanky suit, and he occasionally invites a young, brunette female vocalist onto the stage, who goes through a number of costume changes that consist of glittering, pin-up style dresses with elbow-length gloves. While the duo is decked out in fancy duds, the whole bar is completely casual. I’m wearing a basic black tank top and jeans with flats for the first time since I’ve met Joaquin—who, naturally, took me shoppingagainthe day after we left.

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