Isabel lifts her chin and locks eyes with Fernando. “Yes, we do.”
“Isabel,” he says gruffly. His hands open and close, and his frown deepens. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Her eyes widen and she splays a hand on her chest. I can’t tell if she’s purposefully being dramatic or if she’s genuinely surprised.
“Fernando! Where are your manners?! She’s a guest,” Mr. Alvarez says, his voice rising.
“They flew out the door when she cut me out of her life.” Fernando’s voice stays deadly quiet as he turns to face his father. “And if we’re speaking of manners, where are yours, Papá?” Fernando wraps his arm protectively around my shoulder and pulls me closer to him. His chest is heaving. “I brought Ava here to meet everyone, and instead of getting to know her, you brushed her aside for Isabel.”
“Fernando,” Isabel says, “be reasonable. It’s time to let go of the past. There’s no reason to hold a grudge.”
“I don’t hold grudges. I just choose not to associate with people who make it clear they don’t want me in their lives. You’ve had more than five years to contact me if you wanted to talk. Well, time’s up.” His voice remains calm.
“Isabel, ignore him. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Mr. Alvarez says.
“No, Papá. I’ve never been more certain of myself. Any love that may have existed between us is gone.” He shakes his head. “I know you’ve always wanted me to come home, run the bed and breakfast, and marry Isabel, but that isn’t ever going to happen. My life is in America with Ava.”
Mr. Alvarez’s lips thin. “There is nothing for you in America that Spain doesn’t have.”
My eyes dart between the three of them. I don’t know what to say or do. I feel like a dog who’s been placed inside a kennel, watching people toss a ball back and forth.
“Isabel!” Mamá Alvarez says, coming up to us slightly out of breath. “This is a surprise.”
“Papá invited her over,” Fernando says in a flat voice.
“I see.”
“Hello, Julissa,” Isabel says.
“Hola,” Mamá Alvarez replies. “Sorry to interrupt, but Jorge, you’re needed at the front desk. Carlos is ready to take his dinner break. It’s your turn to cover for him.”
“But Julissa . . .” he says.
Mamá Alvarez lowers her chin and gives him a stern look. He mutters something in Spanish, shoves his hands into his pockets, and takes a deep breath. “Yes, dear.” He takes a few steps toward the door. Then as if he’s only just noticed I’m still here, he stops, his cheeks flushed. “Ava, I’m sorry for ignoring you. If you’re free, I’d like to get to know you better later.”
I bite my tongue, offended by how he’s treated me so far. “Okay,” I manage.
Mr. Alvarez shuffles inside.
“Jorge will apologizeproperlylater,” Mamá Alvarez interjects. “Fernando, Isabel, I’ll leave you two to talk. Ava, please come with me.”
“Mamá, we don’t need to chat. She’s leaving,” Fernando says.
“Some things never change. You’ve always been stubborn.” Isabel huffs. “Look, I get you’re still hurt, but I’ve come all this way to see you. The least you can do is hear what I have to say for old times’ sake.”
“Fernando, please,” his mother says.
He pinches his lips together. “Fine. I’ll do it for you, Mamá.”
Satisfied, Mamá Alvarez nods. “We’ll be in the kitchen when you’re done.”
Like a sheep being herded by a collie, Fernando’s mom guides me to the kitchen, leaving her son and his ex-fiancée alone. I can’t believe she’s supporting this. I want her to know how angry it makes me, but I can’t seem to find my voice.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ablast of warm air hits my body as we enter the kitchen. It’s a medium-sized room filled with a mixture of modern and vintage appliances and a large peninsula with three barstools, two occupied by Tía Yulia and Tía Maria. Mamá Alvarez nods toward the remaining one, indicating I should take a seat.
“Can I get you some water?” she asks.
