5. Chapter 5
Chapter 5
Lisa
"Thanks for letting me borrow the car," I say, breathing a sigh of relief as I pull into the driveway to drop off Mateo.
"Your car should be ready by the time you get back," he says. "Carter assured me he’d move you to the front of the line."
"That’s... really thoughtful of him," I reply, a bit surprised. "We only went out twice. I can’t believe he still remembers me."
Mateo’s eyes capture mine, a flicker of something deeply enticing igniting in his gaze. His voice drops, low and steady. "We've never been out on a date," he murmurs, his faint smile almost daring, "but somehow, you’re already etched into my mind... forever."
My heart stumbles, fluttering unexpectedly, and I can’t help but smile back. "There’s that infamous charm," I tease, though I can feel the tension simmer between us. "Everyone warned me about it, Mateo."
His eyes darken, a flicker of mischief dancing in them, and his voice drops to a low, magnetic rumble. "They warned you, huh?" he says, leaning in, "But I bet none of them told you just how much you'd enjoy it." His smile deepens, and a thrill races down my spine when he reaches across and brushes his knuckles against my cheek. I lean into the sensation, letting the scent of his cologne and the warmth of his touch ignite something deep inside me, an electric spark that steals my breath as he leans just a bit closer. I close my eyes as his lips brush against my cheek, an infuriatingly familiar move that stirs both longing and frustration. Once, twice—each time slower, lingering, edging closer to my mouth. My pulse quickens, every nerve attuned to the possibility of what might come next.
But he doesn’t kiss me.
Instead, he pauses, his lips a breath away from their mark, the tantalizing closeness making my skin hum. His voice curls through me like a promise I don’t yet understand. "See you later, hermosa ."
I barely manage a reply, my shaky voice betraying the longing inside me. "I’ll see you later."
I watch as he steps out of the car, his every movement deliberate, like he knows the effect he has on me. For a moment I’m frozen, my fingers brushing the place where his lips had lingered, the memory burning into me. I can’t stop wishing—aching—that just this once, I’d dared to tilt my head just enough to taste the kiss I’ve craved for far too long.
***
"Dad, over here!" I call out, waving my hands in the parking lot to catch his attention.
"Where's your car, Annalisa?" The way he uses my full name makes my skin prickle. He’s the only one who does, and every time he says it, I remember exactly why I go by Lisa instead.
"It's in the shop," I say, bracing for what I know is coming.
He lets out a sigh. "I hope you don’t handle your business the way you handle that car, Annalisa."
"It was running just fine," I reply defensively. "It just broke down this morning."
"I'm sure it warned you," he mutters, unimpressed. "You probably ignored the signs."
As his voice sharpens, he launches into a tirade about my so-called irresponsibility, suggesting I'd be better off taking public transportation. His words sting, and frustration simmers beneath my calm exterior.
"Dad," I say firmly, cutting him off. "The car’s getting fixed. And as for my business, I’m doing just fine. I have two employees I pay every month, and I manage it all efficiently. I haven’t had a single complaint."
He crosses his arms, unmoved. "I'm sure Aaron Baldwin has kept an eye on things for you, so he doesn’t lose his investment."
I bite back my frustration. "Aaron’s my business partner, Dad, not my boss. I handle everything myself."
The ride home is thick with tension. I keep my eyes on the road, gripping the wheel, while Dad sits beside me, finding fault in everything from my driving to my failure as a daughter.
"What hotel are you staying in?" I ask, hoping to steer the conversation somewhere—anywhere—else.
"I’m staying with you," he replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "You can't possibly expect me to pay for a hotel when you have a suitable second bedroom in your condo."
I swallow, bracing myself. "Dad… my condo had a flood," I admit, already feeling the sting of the demeaning remarks I know are coming.
"I knew it!" he exclaims. "I knew you couldn't be trusted to make such a big investment on your own. For heaven's sake, Annalisa, wasn't your mother there to hold your hand and keep you from making a mistake?"
"A water pipe burst, Dad. No one could have predicted that—" I pause, exhaling sharply. "You know what? Forget it."
"So where are you staying?" he asks, not missing a beat. "With your mother?"
"No, Mom’s still in California visiting her sisters."
"Where are you staying, Annalisa?" His tone drips with disapproval, and I can feel his judgment looming.
"I'm staying in a friend's guesthouse," I reply, keeping my voice steady. "Just until Mom gets back. Then I’ll move in with her until the repairs are finished at my place."
"Why can’t you move in now?" he presses. It’s the same question I’ve been silently asking myself all week. But the truth? I want to stay near my current neighbor, though I’d never admit that to anyone. I take a deep breath, carefully choosing my words. "I’d rather wait for Mom to get back. The house is locked, the alarm’s on. I don't want to have to call a locksmith to break in."
"That’s hogwash, Annalisa," he snaps, his tone sharp and dismissive. "Ridiculous, and just plain stupid."
His words cut deep, as they always do, but I bite my tongue.
When the phone rings, I almost welcome the interruption from my father's relentless jabs. "Hello," I answer, feeling a small wave of relief wash over me when I see Mateo’s name on the screen.
“ Hola , hermosa ,” he says, his rich accent sliding over my frayed nerves like a soothing balm. “Your car is ready.”
I try to shake off the lingering tension from my father’s words. “I’ll go pick it up as soon as we get there,” I say, rubbing my temple.
“It’s already back at the house,” he replies, a smile in his voice, the warmth of it somehow easing the beginnings of my migraine. “You’re all set.”
"Thank you," I say, my heart brimming with gratitude. "I’ll be there in about twenty minutes."
I end the call and glance at my father. “After we pick up the car, I’ll help you check into a hotel,” I say, keeping my tone even.
“First, you’re taking me to lunch,” he commands, his voice firm and unyielding, as if to remind me—once again—that while he's here, he’s in charge of my time.
***
I take Dad to a small Chinese restaurant in Cold Spring, the kind of cozy, no-frills place where the food is always delicious. We sit in silence, the clink of chopsticks on porcelain the only sound between us. I watch as he eats not only what’s on his plate but also what’s on mine, casually scooping up my rice and half-finished spring roll without a second thought. I don’t mind, though—I don't have much of an appetite.
I let him eat in peace, my eyes drifting over the warm atmosphere of the restaurant. As he finishes my food, he grumbles about the service, then the price, then the weather, barely pausing for breath. I sit quietly, listening to him complain, each gripe a reminder of how much things haven't changed between us—how much he’s always tried to control even the smallest details of my life.
“When is the meeting with the attorney to finalize the trust documents?” Dad asks, leaning back in his chair as he breaks open his fortune cookie, his expression casual but the question carrying a sense of importance. "Because this isn’t a vacation for me, Annalisa. I have places to be, people to see. The longer I’m stuck in this speck on the map, the more it feels like a waste of my time."
"In other words," I murmur, my voice quiet, "spending time with your only child is a waste of time? Is that what you’re saying, Dad?"
"Don’t put words in my mouth!" he snaps, his tone sharp. He unfolds the tiny piece of paper from his fortune cookie. His eyes skim over the words, and then, with a dismissive grunt, he reads aloud, “ The greatest treasures in life are those we take for granted. ”
The words hang in the air, a subtle but piercing jab. He crumples the fortune, tossing it carelessly onto his empty plate as if it means nothing. But it stings, and I can’t help but wonder if, for just a moment, he recognizes the truth in them—or if he’s still too blind to see it.
***
As we pull into the driveway, I steal a quick glance at my father. He’s surveying the house with a curious, almost approving look that puts me on edge. “Who lives here?” he asks, clearly impressed.
“My friend Lily and her husband, Noah,” I reply, keeping my tone casual, hoping he’ll leave it at that.
“It’s a nice place,” he remarks, his gaze sweeping over the property. “Why didn’t you marry this Noah?”
I force a tight smile, drawing in a slow breath to keep from snapping. “Love doesn’t work like that, Dad.”
He raises an eyebrow, his gaze drifting back to the house. “It does when you end up with something like this. Is this where you're staying?”
"I’m staying in the guesthouse," I answer, hoping the conversation will end there. "It’s behind the house."
"Let me see it," he insists, his voice carrying a hint of command.
I had hoped to just grab the keys from Mateo and leave, but it looks like that was nothing more than wishful thinking. "All right," I say, inhaling another slow breath, trying to steady myself. "It's just around the back."
I open the door to the guesthouse and step aside to let my father walk in. "It’s a tiny place," he comments, scanning the room with an air of mild disappointment. "But it’s got a lot of charm."
I watch him walk over to the window and pull the drapes open. "How many acres is this?" he murmurs. "This is the kind of property I’d like to see you in. Not the rundown condo you’re living in."
"I like my place, Dad," I retort, my voice firm despite the knot forming in my stomach. "I’m happy living there. And I don’t need a six-bedroom house when it’s just me."
"Aren't you going to offer your father something to drink?" His tone is sharp and demanding, a reminder of the role he’s always cast me in—dutiful and obedient. "Where are your manners, Annalisa?" he adds, his words steeped in disappointment, as if my sole purpose in life is to cater to his needs.