She wrapped her small fingers around mine. “Come on—dinner’s almost ready!”
I glanced back.
Marco was still standing on the porch. He hesitated before stepping inside, and I thought that was strange, because Marco never hesitated.
He stepped a bit further in, scanning another set of photos—my senior prom, Isabel’s graduation, and of course, a classic: me at twelve with a gap in my teeth, proudly holding a science-fair trophy I’d totally stolen from Isabel. I’d never admit it, but it was my personal favorite.
Marco’s mouth twitched a tiny bit as if he knew exactly which one I was staring at.
Daniel walked in from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. He glanced up, doing a subtle double take when his eyes landed on Marco. The look was classic Daniel—careful, suspicious, with a healthy dash of “What the hell have you done now, Valentina?” I could sense him running a full background check in his head.
Great. This was exactly what I needed—my very own human lie detector meeting Mr. Billable Hours.
Daniel’s attention darted between us again, waiting for me to say something. Marco, of course, stood perfectly still, as if he expected someone else to handle the introductions.
“Hey, Vale,” Daniel finally said, drawing out the greeting. He was aiming for calm, but I knew him too well. He was already prepared for either an interrogation or to hide a body—whichever scenario I presented first. “You going to introduce your ... uh ...friend?”
I almost laughed.Friend?Marco was as much my friend as a tax audit—uncomfortably thorough and annoyingly unavoidable.
“Daniel, this is Marco,” I said sweetly. “Marco, this is Daniel, my brother-in-law and resident skeptic.”
“Good to meet you,” Marco said, extending his hand.
Daniel shook it firmly. “You too. Valentina doesn’t usually bring guests.”
Translation:Valentina usually doesn’t tolerate anyone long enough to invite them to a family dinner, so who the hell are you?
“So I’ve heard,” Marco mused.
I bit back a smirk, enjoying Marco’s careful discomfort way more than I should.
Welcome to family dinners, lawyer. Hope you survive.
Finally, Daniel nodded slightly, releasing his grip. “Come on in. Hope you like enchiladas.”
“I do.”
I narrowed my eyes.Do you?
I didn’t know that about him. The man ate work hours for breakfast.
Lucia tugged on my sleeve. “Come on, tía! You have to sit next to me.”
I let her drag me toward the dining room, and of course, Marco slid into the seat beside me, his thigh brushing mine, and suddenly, my blood pressure was rivaling Manhattan rent prices.
My worlds were colliding spectacularly, and all I could do was watch and pray nobody said anything I’d have to explain later.
I could already feel the headache coming on.
Isabel, of course, was already watching us like we were the most interesting thing to ever happen at this table. She wasn’t digging yet, but I knew her. She wasfeeling things out, deciding when to push—how hard, howfast.
And then, right on cue, “So, Marco,” she said, resting her elbow on the table, smiling. “How did you and Vale meet?”
I was nowhere near ready for this.
My mouth opened, but before I could get a single word out?—
“We met at a bodega,” Marco said smoothly.
