Page 67 of Hard to Love
Her eyes brightened. “I am so in.”
They wandered outside, but the picnic tables Greer had moved in were all occupied. Alex’s mamá spotted the oak tree and flatbed trailer. “Maybe we could sit there?”
Alex and Greer carefully avoided looking at each other. “Perfect shady spot,” Greer agreed a little too brightly.
A few minutes later, the three adults were sitting on the end of the trailer while Nicolás was perched on the wheel well, staring into the distance as though ignoring them would make them all go away. Alex’s mamá took her time unwrapping the food and laying it out as though the placement was the most important thing in the world.
“So—” she slid a glance at Greer, no doubt scoping out her hips and calculating whether or not they were sufficient to birth a Villanueva baby, “—how do you know my Alejandro?”
Greer gestured toward the barn. “I’m involved with the artisan village.”
That was the understatement of the year. Alex chimedin, “She owns this land and the barn. This whole thing was her idea and she’s running a huge competition to discover the most talented artists.”
That squared his mamá’s shoulders. “You have seen my Alejandro’s work, no? He is very talented.”
A small smile quivered around Greer’s lips as her attention slid toward the spot they’d made love and back to his mamá’s face. “I completely agree.”
“Then he should win.”
Jesus. “That’s not Greer’s decision, Mamá. The people who live in Prophecy are the competition judges.”
Her black eyes narrowed. “Ah, a popularity contest then. You used to be very charming. Remember how you would help Señora Costanza after church on Sundays? Her bougainvillea were the most beautiful on the block.”
“Are you suggesting I should bribe people by planting their gardens?”
Her shoulder rose and fell. “Being nice never hurt anyone.” She passed out plates heaped with tamales and a simple avocado and tomato salad.
The spices and hint of lime took Alex back to Christmas Eves at hisabuela’s house. For the time it took them to eat, silence reigned over the trailer. Nicolás wolfed his down then jumped over the trailer’s side.
“Mijo, where are you going?” his mamá called to Nicolás.
“For a walk.”
His mamá’s sigh was full of meaning. Apparently, Greer caught it too because she scooped up a last bite of tamale and said, “Mrs. Villanueva, thank you so much for lunch. If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back inside.”
When she walked away, Alex and his mamá both contemplated Greer’s backside. For very different reasons.Finally, his mamá said, “Is she Catholic?”
Christ. “I’ve never asked.”
“Why not? It’s obvious you like her.”
As much as he’d missed his mamá, he didn’t miss having family digging around in his private business. “She’s a nice woman.”
“Very pretty too. She would make pretty babies.”
“I’m sure she will one day,” Alex responded, careful to keep his tone nonchalant because thinking about Greer’s future babies led him down the path of who would help her make those pretty babies. And he couldn’t go there today. “But that’s not why you’re here. When do you fly back to Georgia?”
“We don’t.”
“What?”
His mamá swallowed and made a show of packing up the leftovers and trash. “Nicolás and I have been back in San Antonio for six months.”
It was surprising the metal trailer frame didn’t bend under Alex’s grip. He didn’t even try to breathe through his anger, just let it ride. “And you didn’t think I needed to know? Why the he—” she shot him a mamá look and he swallowed the curse word on his lips, “—why would you do that? And why didn’t you tell me when I called a few days ago?” He’d let it slip that he was in Texas, so that would’ve been the perfect time for her to return the info. Dammit, he should’ve known something was wrong when she wasn’t upset by his whereabouts.
Now, her eyes turned soft and sad. “You might not understand this, Alejandro, but I miss my family.”
Direct shot. She had no idea how much he’d missed her and Nicolás over the years. Missed the hell out of his papá and Javi. How could she sit there and accuse him of notunderstanding that loss?
