Page 22 of Harvest of Love
“Feliz Sangiving, hijo. What are you up to today?” I already know he’ll be with his mom since her boyfriend had to be elsewhere.
“Mami and I are making pastelones,” he says, music filtering through the speaker. “Maybe I’ll bring you a couple on Sunday.”
“That’s very generous of you, hijo. Thank you.”
“Yeah.”
He pauses, and I frown. Something’s off. Before I can ask, he says, “I miss you, Papi. I wish you were here with me.”
I inhale sharply.
Even though I had no choice but to divorce my ex, I hate that Tommy is caught in the middle of it all. Sometimes I wonder if moving to Azalea Creek—taking him away from everything familiar—was really what’s best for him.
Guilt hits me square in the chest, spreading like a sickness.Fuck. Did I screw up my son’s life just because I couldn’t stand to live in the same city as my cheating ex?
“Papi?” Tommy’s voice pulls me out of the spiral.
“Yeah, hijo. I’m here. I miss you too—so much. I’m sorry I moved us so far away.” My voice wavers. I tense, bracing for whatever he’ll say next.
But nothing in this world could have prepared me for what comes out of his mouth.
“And not having met Xander González and practicing hockey with him? Or not having Daisy? No, Dad. I enjoy our life in Azalea Creek. Besides, the air in the mountains is better than the air here.”
A laugh bubbles up in my chest, and I tilt my head back, letting it out.
“I’m grateful you think that way, son. I’m happy here too.”
And it’s true. Our life in this small town is completely different from the one we had in Miami—but I love it. We spend more time outdoors. Sure, we miss the beach, but we can always fly down for a weekend whenever we want.
“Have you seen Daisy?” Tommy asks casually, as if he were asking about the weather. I send up a silent prayer of thanks that I’d just parked, because otherwise I think I might have crashed.
I clear my throat, scrambling for an answer. Do I lie? Or do I tell him we’re together now?
Before I can decide, a feminine voice fills my truck. “Hey, Manny. Tommy wanted to say hello, but we’re in the middle of cooking, so we’re going to cut it short. Happy Thanksgiving.”
I close my eyes as I count to ten. Yoly’s not only a cheater—she’s fucking rude. I’ve never told Tommy he couldn’t talk to her while he’s with me, but whatever. I’ll see my boy in a few days.
“Okay, Papi. I gotta go. Say hi to Daisy for me if you see her.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. “I love you, mi amor. See you soon.”
“Te amo,” he says before hanging up.
I close my eyes, smiling, proud that my son isn’t afraid—or ashamed—to express his feelings. The new generation doesn’t carry the old belief that men don’t cry or that they’re weak for showing emotion.
“Hey, baby,” I say as Daisy answers my call.
I’m on a quick break after a long morning in the ER. A group of hikers got lost in the Blue Ridge and were rescued in the early hours. One of them had several fractures, and the ER doctors called me in to assist.
“Hey. I wasn’t sure if you were going to call or text today, but I’m happy you did.”
“Why?” I ask, frowning. Didn’t I make it clear last night we’re together now?
“Well, I just wasn’t sure how busy you were going to be, and I didn’t want to be the one interrupting you at work,” she says so fast it takes me a moment to process.
“Daisy, you can call or text anytime. If I don’t answer right away, I’ll make sure to get back to you as soon as I can,” I tell her, my voice firm. “But please know that I always want to hear from you.”
Her sweet chuckle loosens the knot in my chest.
