When Love Changes Everything (Linder Family #6)

13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Lisa

Was that the phone ringing, or was I dreaming?

Wait. Who is Mateo talking to?

I freeze, straining to catch the sound of his voice—low, urgent, and slicing through the stillness of the night. Every word seems to hang in the air, pulling me in. Now fully awake, I shift slightly onto my side, trying to angle myself so I can hear more clearly.

The room is cloaked in shadows, the only light coming from the soft glow of the moon spilling through the window. I can see Mateo pacing back and forth across the room, his silhouette tense. The phone is pressed to his ear, his voice low and clipped. It’s clear—he’s not happy.

"Are you out of your mind?" he mutters, his voice harsh but barely audible. A few moments tick by, heavy with silence. "Why am I whispering?" he says, a sharp edge to his tone. "Maybe because it's the middle of the night." Whoever is on the other end of that line clearly has a lot to say.

"It's none of your business. No. I don't owe you anything!" His words are laced with frustration, and I can tell I missed a lot of the conversation. I watch as he ends the call, and he drops the phone on the nightstand.

"Who was that?" I whisper, hoping my tone sounds calm.

"No one important, hermosa ," he murmurs as he slips back into bed. The warmth of his body brushes against mine. "Go back to sleep," he whispers.

I turn to face him, my fingertips grazing his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my touch. The tension in his voice melts away as he pulls me into his arms, enveloping me in a tenderness that calms my fears and makes me feel safe.

He lowers his head and whispers in my ear, "Let me love you, Annalisa."

And for the first time in my life, that name— my name—sounds like a beautiful melody to my ears.

***

I open my eyes, the morning light spilling into the room. My hand reaches for Mateo, but the space beside me is empty, the sheets cool except for a faint trace of lingering warmth. My gaze falls on a note resting on the nightstand, his familiar handwriting scrawled across the paper: Hermosa, went for a run. Love you.

A soft sigh escapes me as I press my face into his pillow, the scent of his cologne clinging there, just like on my skin. I can still feel his arms wrapped around me throughout the night. A sweet reminder of the promises we exchanged in the quiet darkness—veiled in whispers, sealed with kisses, and made unshakable through the language of love.

After a quick shower and getting ready for the day, I make my way to the kitchen to make breakfast. But as soon as I step inside, my eyes fall on a dozen roses in a stunning arrangement, their vibrant petals a striking contrast against the kitchen's white countertop. I walk closer and breathe in their scent as it fills the air and see a small card nestled among them.

I pick it up and smile as I read the words, each one sweet and full of promise.

Hermosa,

Thank you for trusting me with your heart.

I will treasure it and work every day to keep it safe.

I love you more than words could ever say.

Mateo

"I believe you, Mateo," I whisper as I inhale the sweet scent of one of the blooms. "I believe you."

For breakfast, I prepare egg-white omelets with bell peppers, tomatoes, spinach, and avocado, while the faint sound of my humming fills the kitchen—a love song I didn’t even realize was on my lips. Just as I'm sliding each omelet onto a plate, Mateo walks in. I can tell he's been to the gym. His dark hair is still damp from a shower. His muscles are defined under a simple T-shirt and jeans. No one wears casual clothes like he does—he looks incredible, magnetic.

" Hola , hermosa ," he greets me, his voice low. He pulls me into his arms. His embrace is warm, his scent intoxicating, and when his lips meet mine, I get lost in the taste of him, the comfort of his arms. In that moment, he makes me feel cherished and fills me with an unwavering trust in the love we’re building.

"Thank you for the flowers," I murmur, my voice soft as my fingers trace the back of his neck.

He smiles, his gaze never leaving mine. "Thank you for loving me," he says, as if the words hold his entire world.

We stand there for a few moments, gazing into each other’s eyes, silently acknowledging the depth of what we shared last night—everything it meant, everything we are to each other.

"Did you sleep okay?" he asks, his gaze sweeping over me.

I nod, smiling softly, before I notice his expression turn serious. "I’m sorry about the phone calls," he adds, his tone carrying a slight edge.

"Who was it?" I ask, bracing myself for the same vague answer as before, but this time, there’s a shift in his demeanor. Something more guarded.

"It was Marian," he says cautiously, the words hanging between us like a heavy stone.

"Marian?" I ask, incredulity creeping into my voice. "Why would she call you in the middle of the night? What did she want? How does she even have your number?" The questions tumble out before I can stop them, and too late I realize how I must sound—like a jealous, irrational girlfriend.

"I'm sorry," I add quickly, my voice softening. "It’s none of my business."

" Hermosa ," he says, his tone gentle. "You're my fiancée. Soon you’ll be my wife. My business is your business."

I nod, his words filling me with confidence and peace. And before I can say anything else, he kisses me—softly at first, teasing, coaxing until my lips beg for more. The kiss deepens, and his hands glide up to the nape of my neck, holding me close as if he never wants to let me go. We lose ourselves in the kiss, in the moment.

But then, my father's voice shatters the serenity, cutting through the silence like a knife.

"Annalisa!" His high-pitched growl makes every muscle in my body stiffen. The warmth and safety I felt just moments ago now feels like ice running through my veins. I stand up straight, every inch of me rigid, as though a switch has been flipped, turning me into a soldier at attention.

"Good morning, Stan," Mateo says smoothly, his tone calm and unbothered as he steps in to diffuse the tension. "Care to join us for breakfast?"

My father doesn’t say a word, but his scowl speaks volumes. Still, he walks in, pulls out a chair and sits, clearly expecting to be served.

I move instinctively toward the stove, ready to make another omelet, but Mateo's hand on my arm stops me. His touch is reassuring, his lips brushing my cheek in a soft kiss. "Sit with your dad, hermosa . I'll take care of it."

For a moment I hesitate, but the quiet confidence in his expression tells me he's got this under control. I nod, letting him take over. I head back to the table where my father waits, his expression a twisted blend of anger and defeat, like a child watching his favorite toy being snatched away by someone bigger, stronger. I am no longer under his control, and the realization flickers across his face—a bitter truth he cannot deny.

"How do you like your omelet, Stan?" Mateo asks, as he cracks two eggs into a bowl.

"With no fuss," my father grunts, his tone as curt as the glare he shoots my way. He crosses his arms over his chest, his posture rigid, a wall of defiance. The muscles in his jaw twitch beneath his skin, a clear sign of his barely contained irritation.

Mateo chuckles lightly, unshaken. "No fuss. Got it."

As I sit across from my father, I can't help but marvel at how effortlessly Mateo handles the moment. He moves seamlessly to retrieve mine and his own omelets, popping them into the microwave to reheat. While they warm, he grabs some bread, quickly toasting it to golden perfection.

In less than five minutes, the table is set—three steaming plates of food, buttered toast, and mugs of hot coffee. Mateo sits beside me, sliding my plate closer with a wink.

My father doesn’t say a word, but the slight nod as he picks up his fork feels like a monumental victory. Mateo clinks his coffee mug against mine and gives me a smile that says See? We’ve got this.

As we dig into breakfast, the tension is quickly replaced by the comforting rhythm of a shared meal. For the first time in years, I allow myself to relax in my father's presence. With Mateo by my side, I know I have nothing to worry about and my father has no other choice but to remain civil.

“Well,” Dad begins, setting his fork down after finishing the last bite, “since we don’t have to meet with the attorney for a few days, I’m heading to New York for some sightseeing.”

“Dad,” I say, my voice filled with meaning as I meet his eyes. “Mateo and I are getting married next month—after Mom gets back. And… it would mean the world to me if you stayed and walked me down the aisle.”

For a moment his expression softens, the edges of his usual scowl blurring as he looks at me. Hope flares briefly in my chest, but it’s extinguished as quickly as it came.

“I’ve made myself perfectly clear,” he says, his tone sharp. “I don’t approve of this union, and I won’t pretend otherwise. So why would I be in attendance, let alone give you away? Once I'm done here, I’m heading back home, and I won’t be back.”

The words land like a blow, but before I can respond, Mateo speaks, his voice steady. “We’re truly sorry you feel that way," he says, his gaze unwavering. "But Lisa and I are getting married, whether you approve or not. And trust me when I say there’s a long list of men who would be honored to walk her down the aisle. The only one missing out here will be you. And for that, I am sorry.”

The air grows heavy, the silence that follows crackling with tension. My heart aches, but as I glance at Mateo, the certainty in his eyes anchors me, reminding me of what truly matters.

Dad snatches up his napkin, wiping his mouth one more time before tossing it onto his plate with a sharp flick of his wrist before rising from his chair. Without another word, he strides toward the door and disappears, leaving an oppressive silence in his wake.

I sit frozen for a moment, the ache in my chest building until it spills over. Tears blur my vision as I turn to Mateo.

“Don’t cry, hermosa, ” Mateo says gently, his hand enveloping mine. “He might change his mind. Give him time.”

“He won’t,” I whisper, the certainty of my words cutting deep. “I know my father. He doesn’t bend, Mateo. Not for me.”

Mateo’s jaw tightens, the muscle ticking as his eyes search mine. Gently, he lifts his hand, his thumb brushing across my cheek, catching a tear before it falls. The tenderness in his touch feels like a salve, soothing the wounds left by my father’s words.

“Then we’ll stand without him,” he says, his voice full of conviction. He leans closer, his gaze locking onto mine. “Because nothing— nothing —will stop me from marrying you.”

As soon as the words leave his lips, his expression changes. It’s subtle—a flicker in his eyes, like a shadow passing over his face. It’s as if he’s just recalled something unpleasant he’d rather forget.

“What is it, Mateo?” I ask, searching his eyes for the answer.

He hesitates, his gaze darting away for the briefest moment before returning to mine. “Marian will be here next week,” he says finally, the words landing between us like a thunderclap.

“Is that why she called you?” I ask, a cold sensation tightening in my chest.

He nods, his gaze unreadable. “She said she wanted to see me. Asked if I could pick her up from the airport.”

“How did she even know you were still here?” I ask, my thoughts racing with a myriad of possibilities, each one more unsettling than the last.

“Davey told her,” he replies, his tone flat.

“What did you tell her?” I ask, desperate for his honesty, even if it stings.

"I told her the truth,” he murmurs, a smile threatening to escape. “I told her I’ve met someone. That I'm madly in love. And that I’m getting married.”

"Really?" I say, unable to stop the smile spreading across my face. "You told her that?”

He chuckles, a quiet, unguarded sound. “She hung up on me,” he admits, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Right after I told her not to expect an invitation.”

***

My father stuck to his word. As we stepped out of the attorney’s office, a taxi idled at the curb, its engine humming softly against the tense silence between us.

He turned to me, his expression as cold as ever. “You're going to regret marrying that man," he said. "Mark my word."

Then, without a hug, a kiss, or even a backward glance, he climbed into the taxi. The door slammed shut, and just like that, he was gone. No wave, no lingering hesitation—only the bitter finality of his departure.

***

“My dad left,” I say softly as Mateo greets me at the door.

“I know,” he replies, his voice gentle. “He handed me the keys to the car and left in a taxi, taking all his luggage. I texted you to let you know.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, shaking my head. “I didn’t check my messages.”

Mateo steps closer, his hand finding mine. “Are you okay, hermosa ?” he asks, leading me inside, his concern written in the furrow of his brow.

“I am,” I manage, though my voice wavers. “I knew it was coming, but… it still hurts. He didn’t even say goodbye.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, wrapping me in a warm embrace. His arms are a refuge, his presence soothing the ache in my chest. “I wish there was something I could do to take away your sadness. Your father’s behavior is something I’ll never understand.”

I pull back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. “Your presence is all I need,” I say softly, a heartfelt smile curving my lips. “You know, Lily is so lucky to have you as her dad. You’ve always been amazing with her. Honestly, I used to envy the bond she had with you. Before I met you, I’d tell her I wished we could be sisters—just so I could have a dad like hers.”

Mateo’s brow arches, surprise flickering in the depths of his blue eyes. His lips part as if to speak, but I press on, my smile deepening as I gently cup his face.

“Wait! It's not weird at all, I promise,” I add quickly, a teasing laugh bubbling up. “Because the moment I met you, that thought vanished. Completely.” I pause, letting my thumb brush against his jawline. “All I saw was you, Mateo. The man. The tall, strong, ruggedly handsome man with those incredible blue eyes—the man who made my heart skip a beat every time he walked into a room.”

My voice softens. “You’ve always taken my breath away, Mateo. Always.”

When his lips brush against my cheek, I close my eyes, breathing in his scent—cedar and spice. It’s a scent so familiar, so unmistakable, that it wraps around me, cocooning me in a sense of safety and tenderness. His fingers glide up my arm until they rest at the back of my neck. It’s hard to believe that hands this big, this strong, can be so gentle and loving.

As his lips meet mine, the world around us fades into nothingness. The kiss deepens, the intensity building with every passing second, leaving me breathless and weak at the knees. A soft, involuntary moan escapes me as he pulls back, leaving me yearning for more. His eyes search mine, as if desperately seeking the same truth I already see shining back at me—a love so real, so undeniable, it leaves no room for doubt. The intensity in his blue eyes sharpens, and his voice drops to a husky, pleading whisper. "I love you, Annalisa."