“Ever had a cañoncito?” Javier asked, offering me a flaky cream-filled pastry.
“No, but it looks good,” I said, taking it graciously. “What’s in it?”
“It is filled with dulce de leche. It is very good, especially when it is warm.”
Excited, I bit into it, and the flavors instantly burst on my tongue. “Oh wow.”
“Right?” Javier grinned.
“Oh yeah. This is amazing.” It was perfectly flaky, with a hint of butter that melted on my tongue. And the filling was creamy and sweet but not overly so.
He handed Aleesa a palmerita and was about to sit when his phone rang. Withdrawing the phone from his pocket, he checked the screen, then blew a slightly agitated breath. “I have to take this. Keep an eye on her?”
“Of course.”
He cut his eyes to our left, looking at Paola and Catalina, who were leaving the counter with their orders.
“Be right back,” he said, then walked out of the bakery.
I watched as he marched back and forth in front of the window with the phone glued to his ear.
“So, how long?” Catalina’s voice caught me off guard as she twisted one of the chairs at my table around and sat on it backward. She rested one arm on top of the chair while biting into a frosted chocolate doughnut.
“How long what?” I asked.
“How long have you and my brother been sleeping together?”
My heart dropped. I swear it felt like it was sitting in the pit of my stomach now. “Um ... I—I don’t know what you mean, Catalina.”
She smiled behind another bite. “You knowexactlywhat I mean.”
I pressed my lips, looking from her to Paola, who was coming our way. She zeroed in on me, and my heart shot back up into my rib cage and pounded dangerously hard.
“I had a feeling.” Catalina shrugged. “And for the record,I’mnot angry about it.”
“You’re not?” A whisper of relief filled my veins.
“Hell, no. If anything, this is good for my brother. Maybe not the fact that you’re Aleesa’snanny, because that’s stereotypical as hell, but still ... I think this is good. Even better because I actuallylikeyou.”
Paola took the seat across from Aleesa, diagonal from me. “What are we talking about?” she asked, dumping a packet of sugar into her coffee.
“How happy Javier has been lately,” Catalina answered.
“Hmm.” Paola made a face as she began stirring her coffee with a wooden stick. “I am not sure if it is true happiness he shares with her.”
“Má,” Catalina said with a sigh. “We talked about this.”
“No, it’s okay, Catalina,” I interjected, holding a hand up. “I understand why she may not be happy about me and Javier’s situation.”
“Yes, because that is exactly what this is. Asituation.” Paola’s voice was hard, the wrinkles around her mouth more visible. “Yesterday, on the plane ride, I thought I was being crazy. He kept looking at you, and you kept looking at him. Then I see you this morning almost half naked under a robe, and ... well, it was all very unprofessional. It becameveryclear that, yes, my son may be sleeping with this woman.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that. I mean, I could’ve cursed her out just for being rude about it, but I had respect for my elders. And she had every right to be upset that her widower son was sleeping with his nanny. Catalina was right. It was beyond stereotypical, but that’s just how it was.
Paola took advantage of my silence. “Are you using my son?”
My eyebrows stitched together so tight they may as well have conjoined. “What? Ms. Valdez, I would never use him or anyone.”
“Every woman says that.” She sniffed. “Look, I do not have a problem with you, Octavia. You are a great girl, and you take really good care of my granddaughter.” Her voice lowered as she pinned her cold brown gaze on me and leaned forward. “But if I find out that you are using my son or manipulating him inanyway, I will come after you myself.”
