“What do you mean?” I ask, wondering why he’d think I was seeing Donovan.
“I just heard that Beth is heading out to Miguel’s place to meet up with him there.”
She’s going to see Donovan? Why wouldn’t she just tell me that?
“I didn’t know,” I say.
“Hmm… I know you don’t speak to your mom, but I’m sure if seeing Donovan would be a good thing for you, she wouldn’t have a problem with you being there.”
The truth is, nothing would make my mom happier than for me to show up; she hates that I’ve distanced myself so much from her, even though I don’t have a choice…
“Yeah,” I say, “you’re right, maybe I should head up and see them.”
This is a good idea. I can talk to Elizabeth in person about that message and find out what the fuck is going on.
Chapter 8
Elizabeth
Catchingataxifromthe train station was easy and it means that I’m pulling up to the house earlier than expected, it’s still the afternoon so I’ve got plenty of time to meet them and settle in. I already shared my location with Donovan, so he knows exactly when I’m arriving… and there he is in the doorway, grinning like an idiot. I run into his arms and don’t even notice the taxi driver leaving, or his mom appearing in the doorway behind him.
“I’ve missed you,” I say, my face buried in his shoulder.
He laughs and kisses the top of my head. “I’ve missed you too, I have so much to tell you. Come on, let me introduce you.”
His mom is stunning; her face shows her years in an elegant way and her short dark hair frames it with soft waves, reminding me so much of Donovan. Her features are all Diablo though; they almost have the exact same nose and such similar mouth shapes.
“Hola, Señora. Mucho gusto,” I say, extending my hand, but she gently pats it away and pulls me into a hug.
“Hola, mija. I’m so happy you’re here and that we finally get to meet you, Donovan has told us so much about you.”
She’s giving me one of those real Mom hugs, the ones where you feel safe and warm and never want to leave. Reluctantly I let her go, and as I pull back her smile is warm and inviting, instantly making me feel at home.
“And please, call me Sofía, or titi—if you don’t feel comfortable yet using names.”
“Thank you,” I say, before extending my hand to Miguel. “Hola, Señor. You have such a beautiful home, thank you so much for letting me stay here.”
He smiles as he shakes my hand. His strong handsome features are softened slightly with age, though his jet-black hair makes him appear much younger than I imagine he is.
“Please, call me Miguel, or tío. Any friend of Donovan’s is always welcome here, we’re happy to have you.”
The house really is beautiful, I assume three bedrooms for the size, and we’re already standing in a large living room with comfortable sofas and chairs angled towards a large flat screen. The walls are full of art and photos, like their own personal gallery.
“Come, we’ll have drinks,” Sofía says, heading down a corridor.
The kitchen-dining room is even bigger than the living room, with a huge table made for big families and a modern, yet homey kitchen. On the breakfast bar is a choice of drinks waiting for us—champagne on ice, wine, and a selection of beers and ales.
“What’s your poison?” Miguel asks.
“I’d love a beer, please.”
“Me too,” Donovan says.
“Two beers coming up,” Miguel says, “and of course, champagne for you, mi amor.” His eyes sparkle as he looks at Sofía.
With drinks in hand, we settle on the deck which overlooks the swimming pool. I’m desperate to dive in, missing the pool I had in my family home, but it would obviously be rude to turn up and immediately ask to use their pool.
“I know it’s a bit big for the garden,” Miguel says, “and we’ve lost our lawn and flower beds, but I’d rather spend my time swimming than gardening, so I don’t regret getting it installed.”
