When Love Changes Everything (Linder Family #6)

3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Lisa

Oh, no. This can’t be happening. I’m not a crier. I’ve never been a crier! But wrapped in his arms, I feel safe—protected, shielded from all harm, including the disaster that is my life right now. I melt into him, surrendering to the comfort he offers, and let the tears flow freely. I no longer care. Let them fall. A good cry never hurt anyone. They say it’s better to let it out than to bottle everything up inside. So what if I’m putting that theory to the ultimate test by letting tears and snot stain the front of his shirt? It's dirty anyway.

How can a man this grimy still smell so incredibly good? Hold me, Mateo, because I’m fully invested in this moment, and I can sense you are too.

I’ve never been this close to him before. This intimacy is new and exhilarating—thrilling, even. It feels out of this world amazing. He’s strong; I can feel the ripple of muscle in his back beneath my touch. My fingers glide down his arm, discovering more of that strength, taut and defined. The man is stacked. He called me beautiful, but no, Mateo— you’re beautiful . Who am I kidding? I can say I'm not into older men until I'm blue in the face, but I am most definitely without question, without a doubt into this older man. Twenty years between us be damned, I'm way into you, Mateo Cruz, hook, line and sinker.

He pulls away slightly, looking down at me, his eyes filled with sympathy for my situation. But right now, all I care about is him and how desperately I want to hold onto this moment.

"Are you okay?" He whispers, his breath close, warming my skin with every word. "What can I do to help? To make things better?"

“I think a kiss would make me feel better,” I say, my heart racing. Oh God! Did I just say that out loud?!

“Lisa,” he whispers, his voice deep and thick with emotion.

“Bésame, Mateo,” I reply, using my limited but proficient Spanish. Okay, it's really the only word I know, but what other word could be as important, as vital, as meaningful as “kiss me”?

When I feel his lips gently brush against my cheek, I brace myself for what’s to come, filled with anticipation and longing for the kiss I’ve been waiting for and dreaming about since the day I met him.

But my phone rings, shattering the delicious spell we were both under. I mutter a curse under my breath, and he just smiles, turning away as he rakes his fingers through the roughness of his five o'clock shadow—a mindless gesture that makes my heart flutter. I’d been craving the feel of that stubble against my skin. Stop it, Lisa!

I glance at the name on the screen and clear my throat before answering, “Katherine.”

“They’re here!” she exclaims, her voice brimming with joy and excitement.

“Oh my gosh!” I reply, mirroring her happiness. "Is everyone okay and healthy?"

"Yes, mom and babies are doing great," I can hear the smile in her voice. "Loren is one tough woman."

“Well?” I urge, desperate to know the gender of the twins. "Tell me, tell me now!"

“It’s a boy,” she says, pausing for dramatic effect. “And a—”

“Tell me!” I exclaim again, my heart racing. “Is it a girl?”

“It’s a girl,” she announces, her voice rising with glee. “It’s a girl!”

"A boy and a girl," I announce, locking eyes with Mateo.

“A boy and a girl,” he says softly, beaming from ear to ear.

***

Mateo and I spend the next couple of hours packing up what’s left in the house—clothes, photos, the bathroom, and finally the kitchen.

Once all the boxes are stacked in the truck, I take a final walk through the condo, ensuring I haven’t left anything behind. As I shut the door and lock it, the click echoes in the stillness, a sharp sound that marks the beginning of my new reality.

“I’m officially homeless,” I say, offering Mateo a slim smile.

“You’re not homeless, hermosa ,” he replies in Spanish—the kind that hails from Spain. There’s a difference. Ask any woman on the planet; nothing compares to the allure of Spanish from Spain. It’s swoony, seductive, enticing, compelling, and utterly sexy. Everything a language should be. And when Mateo speaks it, every nerve in my body responds, stirring something deep within—where attraction is born and where love can bloom. Wait! What?! Love? No. Absolutely not! No way, no how, no chance. I’m just on an emotional rollercoaster. My house empty, my things gone, my furniture ruined, my living situation dire, the twins' birth—it's just a whirlwind of feelings, that’s all.

“ Hermosa means beautiful,” he says, mistaking my silence for confusion rather than a response to the undeniable attraction I feel for him. Mateo, you are trouble, and something tells me my heart is in serious jeopardy.

***

Back at the house, we stack the boxes in the garage before we part ways to shower, each of us seeking a moment of solitude before riding together to the hospital to meet the twins.

“Can I ask you a question?” I say, climbing into the truck and settling into the seat next to him.

“What is it?” he replies, giving me his full attention.

“What attracted you to Noah’s wife?” My question hits a nerve, and I can see him stiffen, becoming noticeably uncomfortable. “I know it’s private, but I want to understand.”

“What is it exactly that you don't understand?” he asks, though there’s no defensiveness in his tone.

“I met her the last time she was here,” I explain. “She seemed cold, distant, aloof.”

“I think Marian is misunderstood,” he replies, his voice steady.

"Misunderstood?" I say, unable to hide my surprise. "She took Davey out of the country without Noah's permission."

"Davey is her son too," he reminds me.

"Noah has sole custody," I remind him, "But let's put that whole fiasco aside for a sec. She was cold. Even with Davey. Their relationship felt very transactional—no warmth, no emotion.”

“She found herself surrounded by Noah’s people,” he says. “Everyone took his side. People judged her. Made her feel like a bad mother.”

“You’re making excuses for her,” I counter.

"I don't think so," he says, locking eyes with me. "I can relate to some of the reasons why her wall was always up."

“You don’t think she’s a bad mother, do you?” I ask, wondering if he still has feelings for her.

“I think she’s a complex woman who loves her son deeply,” he asserts.

“What would have happened if she hadn’t miscarried?” I ask, getting to the crux of the matter—the real question I’ve been wanting to ask and the honest answer I’m eager to hear.

“The answer to that question is moot since she did lose the baby,” he replies firmly.

“I still want to know,” I press, unable to let it go.

“I don’t deal in hypotheticals,” he responds, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“So you’re not going to answer my question?” I challenge, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

“I’m a good father, Lisa,” he says, letting his firm demeanor slip for a moment. “I would have loved that child just as much as I love Lily. She has never lacked for anything, and I would have made sure my second child had it all, too.”

“What about Marian?” I ask, bracing myself before finishing my question. “Could you have loved her, too?”

“No,” he replies immediately. The certainty in his voice is jarring.

“So it was just an affair,” I say, feeling a sense of relief and heaviness all at once. “Nothing more.”

“Nothing more,” he confirms, his gaze steady. “I’m a good father, but I never claimed to be a good man.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “How can you say that?” I ask, his words sinking in like a clear warning to keep my distance. A pang of hurt stirs inside me, sharper than I’d like to admit.

“I’m just being honest,” he says softly, catching my frown, yet his eyes betray a flicker of regret, as if he knows his words are hurtful.

“Your coldness reminds me of Marian,” I reply, hoping my words will strike a nerve, just as his have cut through me.

“Don’t ask a question you’re not ready to hear the answer to,” he says, his tone blunt and unyielding.

We drive to the hospital in complete silence. I’m not usually at a loss for words, but this revelation has left me speechless. What more is there to say? The truth is sinking in with a sharp finality: if I let myself get close to this man, he will break my heart. This is what Lily meant. I almost let Mateo charm his way into my life.

***

"Can I come in?" I ask, poking my head into Loren's hospital room.

"Of course," she says, smiling warmly. "Come in."

The twins are wide awake. They're tiny, but healthy and strong. My heart swells when I make eye contact with each of them. The little boy has a head full of dark hair like Loren’s, and the baby girl has Aaron's adorable dimples. They’re perfect.

Loren notices the tear slipping down my cheek. "Are you okay?" she asks gently.

I nod, smiling through the emotion. "Yes. They’re tears of joy, I promise."

She gives me a knowing look. "I know you, Lisa. Did something happen? I mean, the flood in your condo is frustrating, but you have insurance. And Lily's guesthouse is available for as long as you need it."

I shake my head. "It’s not that," I say softly.

"Is it Mateo?" Her question stops me in my tracks.

I try to brush it off, but Loren raises an eyebrow. "Don’t give me that look," she says. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened," I say, a little too quickly. "And nothing is going to happen. I’m not into older men."

She tilts her head, her eyes searching mine with that knowing glint. "Who are you trying to kid?"

"He’s not a good man," I say, matter-of-factly.

"He produced a pretty amazing daughter," she reminds me.

"Lily is pretty awesome," I concede. "Don't take me wrong, he made it clear to me that he’s a good dad…but not a good man."

She frowns, eyebrows drawing together. "What does that even mean?"

"Lily has warned me about her dad for years," I say. "He’s charming and handsome. Smart and funny. He can be so caring, so thoughtful…kind and sweet."

“I'm sure he's all those things,” she agrees. “But he hurt Sophia. It ended their marriage, and yet… according to him, she’s still the only woman he’s ever truly loved. He’s never had a serious relationship since.” She pauses, and her gaze tells me she's debating whether to continue. “Lisa, you’re not the kind of woman who goes for flings, one-night stands, or tangled affairs.”

I sigh, wrestling with my thoughts. "You’re right, but I can’t help it—I like him, Loren. He’s exciting, mature, different. He makes me feel special…beautiful…wanted."

"But do you trust him?" she says, watching me closely.

"I can trust that he’ll be honest with me," I say slowly. "He pretty much let me know that I can't expect a happily-ever-after with him."

"He said that?!" she exclaims, her eyes going wide.

"Not in so many words," I admit. "But what I heard was that it'll be fun. He has the power to take me to the moon and back, but when it’s over, he’ll leave—and I won’t be able to protest because he warned me. It’s brilliant, really. I wouldn’t even have the right to be angry."

"Oh, Lisa," she murmurs, dumbfounded.

"I’m attracted to him, but I’m not stupid. I’m going to heed Lily’s warning and keep my distance."

Loren gives me a weak smile. "I think that’s smart."

"The only problem is, I’m staying in the guesthouse… and he’s staying at the house."

"Yeah," she says, sighing. "I can see how that could be a problem."

"I appreciate his honesty, though," I admit. "Now that I know, it’ll be easier to keep my heart out of it, even if we’re neighbors."

Loren chuckles. "That doesn’t always work, you know. Aaron and I tried being just neighbors and look where it got us."

I smile, remembering. "You’re living your dream now. I’ll never forget the day you came over, and I had to tell you Aaron had left. Your face was this mix of shock and sheer determination to find him and fight for your love. I want what you two have—and I know I’m not going to find it with someone like Mateo."

***

After I leave Loren’s room, Aaron and Mateo slip inside, giving Mateo his first chance to meet the twins. I walk down the hospital corridor, replaying my conversation with him, each step weighed down by a mix of emotions I can’t quite shake. My stomach growls, a sharp reminder that I haven’t eaten all day, so I head to the cafeteria, hoping the clatter and hum will drown out my unsettled mood. Just as I enter, I spot Katherine at the counter, reaching for her wallet to pay for a salad.

Katherine—Loren's sister, another one of my closest friends, and the one person I can count on to never sugarcoat a single word, even if it's the last thing I want to hear. Her eyes catch mine across the bustling cafeteria, and before I can even manage a greeting, there's already a familiar, silent understanding between us. She steps closer, her green eyes searching my face intently, reading me in that way only she can. “What’s wrong?” she asks, her voice gentle yet probing, as if bracing herself for whatever weight I might unload.

I tell her everything, letting each detail spill out, holding nothing back—not even the turmoil churning inside me when it comes to Mateo. Katherine listens in that unwavering way of hers, absorbing every word, each one a piece of a puzzle she’s trying to solve. When I finally fall silent, it feels like a weight has lifted. I wait, knowing she won’t hesitate to give me the truth I may not be ready to hear.

"You need to get out of the guesthouse, fast," she urges. "The sooner, the better. Come stay with us or go to Mom and Dad’s."

"I’m not running from him," I say firmly.

"That’s exactly what you should do," she exclaims, a glint in her green eyes. "Run!"

I groan, frustration bubbling over. "Why does he get under my skin like this? I’m not into older men!"

She crosses her arms, a familiar smile curving her lips. "I have news for you—when it comes to this older man, you definitely are."

I sigh, biting my bottom lip as I try to contain the torrent of emotions. "Why is everything coming down on me all at once? The flood, Mateo's return, Mom being gone, Dad's visit next week."

She raises a hand, all business. "Alright, one thing at a time. When is Gretchen due back?"

"Not until the end of the month," I say, pausing as an idea takes shape. "Maybe I could hire a locksmith, have him open Mom’s place so I can stay there."

She nods, considering. "Not a bad idea. Or you could rent an apartment, or even check into a hotel for a bit. Your homeowner’s insurance would probably cover it."

I flash a guilty smile. "I’d rather stay in the guesthouse."

She arches an eyebrow, a hint of warning in her gaze. "You’re playing with fire."

I chuckle, feeling a nervous thrill. "Tell me something I don’t already know."