“B-but that’s playoff day. I’ll be in Alabama for the finals.”
He waves his hand like he’s shooing away a mosquito and turns on his heel.
I bet he did it on purpose. He probably messaged them and told them to come to town on the one fucking day he knew I couldn’t do.
His eyes narrow, challenging me to pick a fight, but I’m scrambling for solid ground. He leaves as quickly as he arrived, taking all the oxygen in the room with him before slamming the door so hard I’m amazed it’s still on its hinges.
I sag against the wall, not sure what to think, feel, and almost too scared to breathe. I’ve never seen Papá so angry. I’m trembling, fear seeping through my layers of skin and muscle, settling deep in my bones. Playoff final on the same day as a business meeting I can’t miss. Responsibility tugs at my dreams, threatening to pull them apart at the seams.
Puta!
What the fuck am I supposed to do?
CHAPTER28
Edith
“Where is he?” Artemis cautiously makes his way around the door, giving me time and space to shuffle out of the way. Crutches aren’t my favorite things, but they sure as hell beat trying to haul my ass around in a wheelchair. Despite being a graceful dancer, I amnotin any way coordinated enough to drive that thing. If there was a test to pass, I’d never get a license.
I hook a thumb over my shoulder to where Apollo is sitting on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest. “I didn’t know what else to do.” I called Artemis the second Alonso barged into my home and started yelling at Apollo.
I wasn’t afraid for my own safety by any means, but watching my beautiful prince revert to a scared little boy in front of me was crippling. Definitely called for reinforcements.
Artemis pats my arm, then crosses the room, before hauling Apollo to his feet. He wraps him in an embrace that even I can feel from where I stand. “You want to talk about it?” Artemis’s words are mumbled against Apollo’s shoulder.
Apollo shakes his head, clinging to his brother. This is definitely going to need further reinforcements.
Pulling out my phone, I text Penelope, asking if that pie place we all love is on a delivery app or if she knows someone locally who’d pick up a pie for me. Hint, hint. This situation needs pie. If for no other reason than I need to feed my feelings buttery, flaky pastry, and sweet, tender filling.
I’m helpless in this moment, but pie would certainly help. Pressing down the fat shaming voice at the back of my head reminding me that I need to be careful what I eat while I’m not dancing, I swallow.
Pen: How much pie do you need? Like a slice? Two?
Edith: We might need two pies. Possibly three.
Pen: Whole pies?
Edith: Whole pies.
Pen: Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayum. What the fuck happened?
Edith: Apollo’s dad showed up and yelled at him pretty good. He’s a fucking mess.
Pen: Oh, the poor little rich boy got spanked by his big rich daddy.
Oof. She’s definitely got some unresolved issues about men with money, but that’s a step too far, even in the moment.
Pen: Sorry. That was inappropriate. Struggling to make ends meet right now. Doesn’t give me the right to belittle someone else’s problems. I know this.
Pen: I’ll bring apology pie. And regular pie.
Half an hour later, the boys have moved to the dining table, sitting next to each other in silence. Apollo still hasn’t said anything, and I can’t tell if Artemis has endless patience, or if they’re having some kind of telepathic discussion.
My phone chimes with another message from Penelope.
Pen: Pies are at the door. Brian charged them to the DLP account. Did you know the DLP have a line of credit with Brian the pie guy?
Pen: Have you met the pie guy? He’s a tall, dark, mountain of a man. I could totally climb him like a tree.
