I shake my head. “No, I’m fine.”
Tía Yulia pops up from her seat, walks over to the refrigerator, and pours herself some sangria. “She’d be better off with something stronger.”
Mamá Alvarez rolls her eyes. “They’re just talking, Yulia.”
Tía Yulia holds up her hands. “I’m just saying, you know what happened last time. When she broke my poor nephew’s heart, it took him months to piece himself back together.”
“I remember.” Mamá Alvarez frowns. “But I think it’s safe this time. They’ve both grown and matured.”
“How do you know?” Tía Maria asks.
“I don’t. But I’m choosing to trust her,” Mamá Alvarez says in a tone that indicates it’s the end of the conversation.
“Well, if she misbehaves, Julissa will let Isabel’s parents know about it.” Tía Yulia snickers.
I’m happy to hear Fernando’s mom is looking out for him. She’s not Team Isabel like Fernando’s father seems to be. “I will take some of that sangria,” I say, rejoining the conversation.
Tía Yulia nods and pours a glass for me and each of the other ladies.
“I missed most of what happened out there, but it doesn’t take much detective work to piece it together.” Mamá Alvarez accepts her drink and places it down on the peninsula untouched. “Jorge was out of line inviting Isabel to dinner tonight. And for not treating you with the respect you deserve.”
I manage a polite nod. Hot lava flows through my veins when I consider Mr. Alvarez’s actions tonight. “I don’t care about how he’s treated me, but I’m worried about the impact he’s having on your son.”
“It’s no excuse, but my husband has a hard time letting go of the past. He’s never gotten over my son’s breakup or the fact that he’s chosen to call America home over Spain,” Mamá Alvarez says.
“Fernando is a grown man. Whether he calls the States home or Spain, it’s his choice.” I take a long sip of the sangria, savoring the sweet taste of the peaches and strawberries, willing it to cool my growing temper.
“We all agree with you, Ava,” Tía Yulia says. “Living in America has changed my nephew for the better. He’s happier than I’ve ever seen him, and he even managed to find you! The only person who doesn’t seem to understand that is Jorge.”
“Besides, Fernando’s never expressed interest in taking over your bed and breakfast businesses,” Tía Maria says to Mamá Alvarez.
“Do you own more than this place?” I cock my head to the side.
“Oh yes. Jorge and I have about fifteen properties all over Spain.”
“And they’re allhighlysuccessful,” Tía Maria adds.
Huh. That must be the real reason Mr. Alvarez is upset. Hewants Fernando to inherit the family business. I think I’m beginning to have a better understanding of what’s going on now.
The clock chimes seven times. I glance at the window. The patio is deserted. Isabel and Fernando have disappeared. I take a final sip of my sangria and set it down. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to find Fernando.”
I may have agreed to push my feelings for him aside, but that isn’t going to stop me from checking on him. No matter what, we’ll still be friends. Thinking about the hurt he might be feeling sends waves of dull pain through my chest. I need to know he’s okay.
I push the stool back and stand, suddenly realizing I have no idea where he might have gone.
“He’s probably in his old room,” Tía Maria muses, reading my body language.
Tía Yulia walks over and sets a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll show you where it is.”
We pass through the lobby and up four flights of stairs toward the roof. “I thought the building only had three floors.”
“It does.” She points to a blue door at the end of the hallway. “The attic was converted into a loft for my nephew. He’s always preferred the quiet and the view. Odds are, you’ll find him standing on the balcony.” She gives me a parting hug, then gently pushes me toward the door. “Good luck, Ava.”
Taking a deep breath, I open the door and groan as I spy another few stairs. I’ve definitely gotten my steps in for the day. Climbing four-and-a-half flights has my leg muscles trembling and crying out for me to take a break. At the top of the landing, there’s another door. I knock twice.
“Vete. Quiero estar solo,” Fernando mutters.
Those words, I know. They translate to “go away” and “I want to be alone.” But as is often the case, we can’t always have what we want. It’s time for some tough love. I knock again. There’s no answer. Reaching for the doorknob, I turn it and start to open the door at the same time it flies toward me.
