I didn’t look myself in the eye—I couldn’t do that without dredging up memories I’d rather keep buried. Instead I focused on the red stain on my cheek. Her lipstick.
She’d said “next time.”
There shouldn’t be a next time. There couldn’t be. Because if there was, I wasn’t sure I’d have the strength to turn down the invitation.
CHAPTER 15
VALENTINA
The bag of bread sat between us, already half-empty. Lucia was tearing little chunks off with all the seriousness of a six-year-old on a mission, her tiny fingers working carefully before tossing each piece into the water.
“Not the big ones,” she instructed, watching as a fat mallard snatched a piece before the others. “The little ones need food too.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah? What should I do about it—tell him to share?”
She gave me a look that told me she wasn’t here for my sarcasm. “You could try.”
“Lucia, I can barely get people my own size to listen to me.” I ripped off a piece of bread and lobbed it into the pond, watching as the same greedy duck darted forward again. “See? He’s an asshole.”
Lucia gasped.“Tía!”
I sighed and made a face, knowing exactly what was coming.
“That’s a bad word,” Lucia said, her chubby little cheeks puffing out in disapproval. “My teacher says it makes your brain rot.”
I smirked. “Your teacher sounds like she’s never had a bad day in her life.”
“She has,” Lucia said, nodding seriously. “One time Anthony brought a frog inside, and she almost cried.”
“Okay, well, remind me to never bring frogs to your school.”
Lucia grinned wide as she broke off another piece of bread and tossed in into the water. She was wearing a puffer jacket—the kind that made her arms stick out like a little marshmallow—and her curls bounced every time she moved. She had Isabel’s eyes, already filled with too much knowledge for a kid her age.
I looked away, letting my gaze drift across the pond.
It was cold. Not bone-chilling, but that February kind of cold that blew in the air. The kind that seeped into your skin no matter how many layers you had on.
Still, I was here.
Lucia had called me this morning asking if I’d take her to feed the ducks. Isa was hesitant, which I expected. She’d probably be a hundred times more hesitant if she knew her recovering alcoholic of a sister was the one responsible for her daughter near a freezing pond. But Isa didn’t know that yet. Small mercies, right?
For the first time in months, I’d said yes to Lucia without hesitation. I didn’t have excuses this time. It wasn’t like there was anything better to do, and I’d been avoiding this for so long.
Ever since deciding to take myself somewhat seriously, my days were mostly the same. I’d wake up, do something that felt productive, even if I was pretending. I’d attend my AA meetings—I hated going to them but still went—and when it was all done, I’d go home, stare at my ceiling, and wonder how much longer I could keep playing by Max’s rules before I’d lose my mind completely.
I wasn’t drinking much anymore, which was half my problem and half my solution. I was a seesaw, balancing the act of bad decisions and fragile hope, never sure which side I’d land on.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want a drink, because believe me, I did. It was because, for once, it felt like I was actually trying. Trying to do what Marco had told me to do anyhow.
Stay clean. Keep my head down. Make myself look like less of a problem.
It was working—at least on the surface.
Max had been off my back lately. Not completely, but enough that I could breathe without him checking in every five minutes. I was still waiting for him to pick out someone for me to marry. He wasn’t pushing it yet, which told me I wasn’t sober enough.
I didn’t want another marriage, but I did want my money. I wanted to keep this act up, because for the first time in a long time, it felt like I actually stood a chance at getting something for myself, even if there were strings attached.
I turned back to Lucia just in time to see her frowning down at her hands.
