Page 106 of Everything But Mine

AMANDA

When I get to the restaurant, Diego’s already in a back booth near the windows. The afternoon drizzle streaks the glass behind him. His hair’s dripping wet, pupils wide in the dim light. He grabs his beer the second the waitress sets it down, mutters a distracted thanks, and downs half before I even sit across from him.

“Hey,” we both say at the same time.

“How have you been?” he asks with a hesitant tone. The lunch crowd hums around us—silverware clinking, low conversations bleeding together.

I shrug. “I’m okay. The house is quiet. We got this mahogany dresser for the baby, and I keep expecting Eric to walk in and start bitching about it.”

“He will.” The certainty in Diego’s voice makes my chest tighten. He drags a hand through his damp hair, droplets dripping on the wooden table. “When we were looking for him…” His jaw flexes. “Fuck, Mandy, I got scared. Truly scared. I was two seconds away from dragging him somewhere myself.” He studies me carefully. “I didn’t think you’d ever agree to this.”

I flinch at the accusation behind his words, nails catching against the grain of the counter. I lean back, putting distance between us. “I’m not afraid of him being better.”

He nods, opens his mouth. The waiter interrupts to take our order, and Diego waits until she’s gone before speaking again.

“Maybe not. But you’re afraid anyway,” he counters.

I look to the side and watch the trails of rain form on the other side of the window. I’m afraid distance will give him clarity and realize that choosing me means parenting with me. Never unburdening himself from all the history, both good and bad, that we share. Maybe it’ll be too much trouble for just… me.

“Mandy.” He covers my hand with his. His palm is warm and rough, but his dark eyes infuse warmth in his gaze. Up close, he looks exhausted too, with dark circles under his eyes and a beard grown past the carefully maintained shadow he usually keeps. “The way you two love each other is honestly a little unhinged.” A tired smile tugs briefly at his mouth. “But you’re both finally rising above fear and choosing each other.”

Diego lets go of my hand to accommodate the waiter bringing our dishes. He tags his napkin at his collar like an overgrown child and bites his burger. A trickle of juice trails down his chin, and he rushes to wipe it.

He points at my dish. “Are you no longer boycotting meat?” I arch my eyebrow in confusion. “Eric wants me to track of your food choices.”

I glance down at my serving of pulled pork and rice. I shrug. “Pork is okay now, I guess.”

Diego nods, rolling the cold beer bottle between his palms. “Good to know. He’ll be glad to hear when I see him next weekend.”

I take a long breath in through my nose, but it catches halfway down my lungs. I don’t get to see Eric. The realization keeps ambushing me in strange moments, sharp and disorienting every single time.

Diego watches me carefully before exhaling hard himself. “Mandy… do you forgive me?” His thumb traces the condensation on the glass. “For not believing you’d put him first?”

“Diego, there’s nothing to forgive.”

His shoulders sag, as if weight is lifted off them.

“I just wish he’d trusted me.”

“He trusts you,” I say. “Just not himself.”

Diego devours the rest of his meal, and I pick at mine. “When are you meeting Daray?”

“Eric told you?”

He grins. “Officer Camacho needs to hand in extensive reports on you, lady.” He winks, then signals for the waiter to refill his water. Diego’s features harden. “Seriously, Amanda, I’ll go with you.”

“You don’t need to.”

“Try telling that to Eric. If he hears I let you do this alone⁠—”

“You don’t need to babysit me to appease Eric.”

He barks out a laugh. “Of course not. I need to babysit you because you get in trouble.”

“I’m serious, Diego. I need to do this alone.”

He studies me for a long second before finally nodding. “Alright. I’ll back off.” He points at me with a fry. “But you should still tell me when. I can wait nearby or something.”