I ran a hand over my face. This was chaos. This was exactly what I didn’t need. Him showing up unannounced. Lucia playing investigative reporter. My entire personal life unraveling like a badly wrapped burrito.
And still—still—the part that bothered me the most was how good he looked standing there as if the past week hadn’t happened.
I hated that some small, stupid part of me had missed him.
I fixed him with a pointed look, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt. “What’re you doing here?”
“Didn’t realize you had company,” Marco finally said.
Lucia tugged at my arm, impatient. “Tía, we have to go! The ducks are waiting!”
Marco’s eyebrow went up slightly. “Ducks?”
Lucia nodded eagerly, her ponytail bobbing with enthusiasm. “We’re feeding them at the park. Do you wanna come?”
Oh god.I stiffened instantly. “He’s busy.”
Lucia pouted dramatically as if I’d just crushed her entire worldview. “You didn’t even let him answer.”
Marco’s mouth twitched, clearly amused. I shot him a quick, pointed look that hopefully conveyed how very little I appreciated this.
Unfortunately, Lucia was persistent. “Are you busy?”
He shrugged casually, hands still in his pockets. “Depends.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “On what?”
“On whether or not yourtíawants me to come.”
Lucia, blissfully unaware of the tension and subtle threats that always lingered around Marco, jumped in immediately. “You should come,” she said, nodding seriously. “But you have to bring bread, because last timetíasaid crackers were better, and the ducks didn’t even like them.”
I sighed. “The ducks were being picky.”
Lucia shook her head seriously. “No. You’re just bad at ducks.”
Marco laughed at that. It caught me off-guard, tugging at something in my chest.
“Fine,” he said, pushing off the counter, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Bread it is.”
Lucia cheered, dancing in place, and I had no choice but to follow them out the door, silently wondering how my peaceful afternoon had suddenly turned into a weird little family outing involving Marco, ducks, and a niece who was entirely too perceptive for her own good.
God help me.
Marco walked beside me with his jacket draped over his arm and his sleeves rolled up. It was warm out, sunny enough that it almost felt like a normal afternoon. And honestly, it felt weird. Good weird, but still weird. A few months ago, my afternoons had looked so different—spent sitting on bodega steps, bargaining with anyone who’d sell me a bottle or a sip or whatever I could manage. Duck ponds and family outings weren’t exactly my scene.
But here I was, sneaking sideways glances at Marco. He seemed weirdly relaxed like this—no tense shoulders, no phone pressed permanently to his ear, no bored lawyer expressionin place. Just a man who surprisingly enough looked like he belonged here in the sunshine too.
Lucia stopped abruptly at the pond’s edge and spun around to face Marco. “Have you ever fed ducks before?” she asked, eyeing him like she was about to interrogate him for credentials.
Marco’s lips twitched slightly as if he were holding back a smile. “Once or twice.”
I couldn’t picture it, him casually feeding ducks. It sounded ridiculous. And yet there he was, playing along.
Lucia nodded solemnly. “Good. Then you know the rules.”
Marco raised an eyebrow. “Um ...” He hesitated. “Rules?”
“Yes,” Lucia said, placing a tiny hand on her hip like she was delivering a serious business presentation. “Rule numberone—no throwing whole pieces of bread. You have to tear them into little pieces.”
