“I’m good,” I reassure her. “We’re both fine. Just laying low for a bit. But I’ll be in touch, okay?”
“Andy, where—?” she begins, but I cut her off.
“I think it’s better if we keep the details to a minimum,” I say. If someone’s tracing this call or listening in, there’s going to be more trouble. “I just wanted you to know that everything’s fine, and I’ll see you soon.”
She huffs out a breath, obviously not happy with my answer.
“Fine,” she says at last. “But promise you’ll be careful. And hurry back. We miss you.”
“I promise,” I say firmly. “Now, take care of those little buns in the oven. I want to see that scary man of yours covered in baby puke as soon as possible.”
I hear her chuckling as I end the call. The thought of Dario changing diapers is laughable. As I turn to see Mateo moving deftly around the kitchen, I hesitate, then dial another number. A number etched into my mind.
“Carter here,” a deep voice echoes down the line.
“Daddy?” I say as I recognize my father’s voice.
“Andrea! What the fuck?” he barks out. “What the hell have you been playing at?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” I reply drily.
“We need to talk,” he mutters.
“Ya think?” I bite out. “Because I have something to share with you, too.” I realize my voice has grown strident when I notice Mateo stop what he’s doing and glance over at me. He turns away and goes back to his cooking. The table nearby is set for two, and I’m thrilled to see a pair of wineglasses laid out.
God, I need a drink.
“Your mother wants to see you,” he says, not bothering to try to explain the shitshow he’s dragged me into. “Come for lunch. Tomorrow.” He says it like there’ll be no objection.
“Beach house?” I ask.
“Where else?” he responds. He’s not asking how I’ll get there. Which means he knows I’m not far off. I feel rage rise, making my cheeks warm. “Twelve sharp,” he adds, then ends the call. I stare silently at the screen until a movement beside me snares my attention. It’s Mateo holding a wineglass.
Oh God, he’s perfect husband material.
“Trouble?” he asks once I’ve taken a large gulp of crisp chardonnay.
“Father,” I mutter. “We have to see him.”
He tilts his head. “Well, I guess I’m going to have to meet the in-laws eventually,” he says wryly. I exhale, still furious. “Hey,” he adds, putting a hand on my arm. “We got this.”
“But you don’t—” I want to tell him he doesn’t understand, but he stops me.
“I’m assuming he’s the one who put you in this predicament?” he says. I nod. “And I imagine he has something over you that would make him believe you’ll do as he says?”
I set my jaw. “It’s complicated.”
“What isn’t?” His hand is still on my arm, and I glance at it. Then I set my glass down and turn away.
“I need a shower,” I say. As brief as it was, the conversation with my father has left me feeling dirty. Mateo steps aside.
“I’ll call you when the food’s done,” he says. I nod silently, making my way to the room he’d pointed out as the bathroom.
∞∞∞
It’s only after I’ve been beneath the driving hot water for several minutes that I finally feel like I can think again. And when I look up, Mateo’s standing at the door, leaning against the frame.
“Feeling better?” he asks. I lather my skin with soap, not wasting time with false modesty. The man’s already seen all there is to see of me.
