“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Where is Mateo?” Mama asks.
I stiffen. “He had a long day of work.”
“Oh.” My family exchange glances again.
“How unfortunate,” Mama says. “He’s such a nice young man.”
“Yes.”
“And handsome,” Mama continues.
I want to nod, but instead my cheeks heat.
I agree with Mama though. Mateo is so handsome. He isso beautiful. I could look at his cheekbones and long lashes and lips for hours.
Well, not really.
But that’s only because I would want to talk to him too.
I miss his energy. I miss him. Clearly, my family misses him too.
How am I going to explain that we are not together?
“We could have met later,” Mama says. “Maybe you want to text him? So he can join us?”
“Well—” My pulse races.
Mama wants to see Mateo that badly?
“Mateo doesn’t have to join,” Annika says.
“But—” Mama frowns.
“Let’s go,” Annika says.
I follow my family to the restaurant they chose.
Boston is beautiful. Not in a German way at all. But I like the glass buildings and the red brick buildings in between.
I like it.
It is October, and the trees are changing colors.
We stand in front of the restaurant.
The world turns yellow, and I look to see a paparazzo.
“Where’s your boyfriend?” the paparazzo shouts.
I go rigid. “Please leave us alone. I am having a family dinner.”
“Why are you alone? Where is Mateo?” the paparazzo asks, as if I could have possibly forgotten Mateo.
“He is working.”
The paparazzo’s eyebrows lift, and I remember that it is evening and there is no Blizzards game tonight. There is no reason for Mateo to not be here.
