15. Chapter 15
Chapter 15
Lisa
Marian glances over her shoulder at me, her eyes widening in brief shock before her expression hardens. She turns back to Mateo for what I’m certain is one last glare before striding toward me, her high heels sinking into the thick grass. As she brushes past, I half expect her to shoulder-check me like something out of a middle school showdown. But to her credit, she doesn’t need to. The look she throws my way is just as effective—sharp enough to unnerve even the toughest opponent.
“We’ll see about that," she murmurs, her tone making it clear this isn’t over.
"How much of that did you hear?" Mateo asks as soon as Marian is out of earshot.
"Enough to get the full picture," I say, meeting his grin with a smirk of my own. "And for the record, I’m not above eavesdropping when it’s necessary."
"Come here," he says, reaching for me. As his arms encircle me, I melt into his warmth. I close my eyes and breath in the masculine scent of his cologne.
"Do you still think she's just misunderstood?" I ask, tilting my head to meet his gaze. "Because she scares the hell out of me."
He inhales deeply, his arms tightening around me. "What scares me," he says, his voice low, "is the fact that we're so much alike."
"That's not true," I say firmly, my hand smoothing slow circles on his back. "She's cold, calculating, cruel, selfish, and a total—"
" Hermosa ," he says quickly, cutting me off. "The only thing that sets me apart is having people in my life who I love enough to make me want to be better."
"She has a son," I say. "And let’s not forget—she walked out on him and Noah without a second thought."
"How about we change the subject?" he says with a smile. "I’m ready to talk wedding venues, cake flavors, and party favors."
I laugh, fully aware that most men would rather swing by city hall on their lunch break to tie the knot than invest time, money, and energy into an elaborate celebration.
"Let’s have a small wedding," I suggest. "Everyone I need there can fit in one room."
"The Linders," he says softly.
I nod, a warm smile spreading across my face. "The Linders. And my parents." As the words leave my lips, a pang of sadness tightens my chest because I know my father won’t be there.
"Don’t be sad, hermosa ," he says, as if reading my mind. "Something tells me your father will be there with bells on, ready to walk his only child down the aisle."
I can't help but hesitate at his certainty. How can he be so sure? I don’t ask. Instead, I smile at him. And then, as if he’s read my mind again, he leans in and kisses me. Slowly, tenderly, and oh so sweetly, he makes me believe—in him, in his words, and in a happily ever after.
***
As I try to concentrate on cataloging the contents of a bedroom for an estate sale I’ve been commissioned to handle, a wave of nerves begins to rise. A quick glance at my watch confirms it—Lily and Noah must be home by now. It’s only a matter of time before Mateo sits down with Lily to tell her not just that we’re together, but that we’re engaged—and getting married in just a few weeks.
“Are you sure you want me to talk to Lily on my own?” Mateo had asked this morning. "I want to show a united front. Leaving no room for her to doubt that this is happening or that she has anything to worry about.”
“Thank you for wanting to include me,” I said, “but I think it’s better if you talk to her alone. I want Lily to feel free to express her feelings and concerns without the added pressure of me being there. Her reaction will probably be more open and honest if it’s just the two of you. She’ll be shocked, confused—maybe even angry—and having me there might make it harder for her to vent openly.”
“When you put it that way,” he replied, “it makes me wonder how strongly she might react. And I’ll have to be ready to stand my ground, even if she doesn’t approve.”
“Remember when she told you about Noah?” I said, hoping to reassure him. “She told me she had made it clear she wasn’t asking for your permission, just letting you know she was in love. You’re not asking for hers, either. We want her blessing, but her opposition won’t change anything. Will it?”
“No,” he said, lifting my hand to his lips. “Meeting you, hermosa . Getting to know you and falling in love with you—those are the best, most pure and transformative experiences of my life. You make me…better. Happy.”
His blue gaze told me he was being completely transparent, his feelings laid bare. He loves me.
***
A light knock on the door and the sound of a man's voice jolts me from my thoughts. "Knock-knock," he says, stepping into the room.
A handsome man in his early thirties with dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes enters with a confident yet apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. Hi, I’m Philip. Did I startle you?"
"No," I reply, quickly composing myself. "I'm good. Hi, I’m Lisa. We spoke on the phone."
"You actually spoke to my father, Philip Weston, Sr.," he says, shaking my hand firmly. "He’s the executor of my uncle’s estate. This was his house."
"I see," I say, glancing around the room. "Well, I’ve cataloged all its contents. Mr. Weston mentioned there were a few items he wanted to keep. Are you here to collect them?"
"Yes," he replies, his smile warm but tinged with something deeper—nostalgia, perhaps. "Uncle Jack left me the house." He looks around, his gaze lingering on the worn wooden built-ins and the light streaming through the tall windows. "I wish I could keep it. But I’m afraid I’ll have to sell."
"It’s a beautiful home," I say, unable to hide my admiration. The air here carries a faint scent of cedar and aged books, and the sunlight softens every corner of the room. "I’ve been spending a lot of time here, and I just realized how comfortable and welcoming this house feels. Do you have an agent yet? I’d love to put in an offer."
"Are you serious?" he says, clearly caught off guard.
"Yeah," I confirm. "I’m getting married in a few weeks. My condo is perfect for one person, but I’d prefer a bigger home to start our life together."
"Congratulations," he says sincerely, though his glance shifts back to the house, as if weighing its future. "My agent is Meredith Sanders from Linder & Morgan Realty."
"You’re kidding!" I exclaim. "I know the Linders and the Morgans."
"Do you know Meredith?" he asks, his tone curious.
"Yes," I say. "Not well, but yeah. She was my agent. She’s good. Anyway, I’d love to put in an offer. I’ll give her a call."
"You can let her know you spoke to me," he says with a small nod. "As far as I’m concerned, the house is yours."
"Really?!" I exclaim, excitement bubbling up. "I’ll have to bring Mateo by to see it, but I’m sure he’ll love it."
"Mateo is your fiancé?" he asks, his tone conversational.
"Yes," I say with a smile. "I think this house could be perfect for us."
Philip’s gaze sweeps the room one more time. "It’s a special place," he says softly, almost to himself. "I hope it brings you as much joy as it brought Uncle Jack and his family."
He turns to collect the items his father requested. "Is this the box?" he asks, his voice tinged with something hard to place as he looks down at the small, cardboard container. "A four-bedroom house, and these few things are all that's worth keeping?"
I nod, taking in the mix of resignation and practicality in his tone. "It's mostly photos and a few items that look like family heirlooms," I say, feeling the weight of their significance. "Definitely worth keeping."
Philip opens the box slowly, his fingers brushing over the items inside, clearly assessing each piece. The photographs, faded at the edges, tell a story of lives well-lived—smiling faces from another time. His expression softens, a small smile tugging at his lips as his gaze lingers on one particular photo.
"Yeah," he murmurs, almost to himself, his voice quieter now. "I guess you’re right. These meant something to Jack, and Dad knows how important it is to keep them."
I watch him for a moment, sensing the attachment he might feel, the weight of family history that lingers in the air. "Family memories, captured in small moments in time," I say softly. "Something you can't replace."
He looks up, meeting my gaze for a brief moment before nodding, a flicker of understanding passing between us. "I’ll make sure they reach their destination," he replies. "Enjoy the house."
"We will," I say, my voice steady, though a surge of unbridled happiness rises within me. My future with Mateo is so close now, and this house—this beautiful house—will be the backdrop to everything that lies ahead for us.
***
"You like it?" I ask Mateo as he makes his way through the house, inspecting each room with a trained eye. He’s worked in real estate in Mexico since before Lily was born, so he knows exactly what to look for.
"Four bedrooms, hermosa ?" he says, raising an eyebrow. "For just the two of us?"
I smile, feeling a rush of excitement, both about the house and what it represents for our future. "Well," I begin, trying to keep my tone light, "I want to start a family someday."
The smile that spreads across his handsome face is all the confirmation I need. He pulls me into his arms, his gaze soft but filled with promise.
"How soon is someday?" he asks, his voice low and playful as he presses a kiss to my forehead. "Because if it were up to me—"
"I don't want to wait," I confess, cutting him off. "If we have children right away, they can grow up with Aaron's kids. And Lily's."
"I'd like that," he smiles. His blue gaze is so intense, I can feel it in my soul. "I love you, hermosa ."
"I love you too," I whisper before his lips find mine. His kiss is so familiar now, so tender and sweet. I never imagined I'd be here, in Mateo's arms. There was a time when I thought he was dangerously handsome, his allure so undeniable that I had to fight the urge to confess just how attracted I was to him. But I never imagined that I’d find myself falling deeply in love with him—and that he would feel the same way.
When my phone rings, the familiar ringtone tells me it’s Lily calling.
I pull away from Mateo, and he grunts in protest, his arms tightening around me. "We’re not done yet, hermosa ," he murmurs against my lips, his voice low and teasing.
"It’s Lily," I whisper, feeling my heart begin to race as the familiar ringtone fills the air. Slipping my phone from my back pocket, I glance at the screen before answering.
Mateo releases me and steps back, though his gaze remains fixed on mine, sure and steady.
"Hello," I say tentatively, holding the phone to my ear. When no response comes, my brow furrows. "Lily?" I prompt, my voice a mix of hesitation and concern.
"I just got off the phone with your dad," she says, skipping any greeting.
My mouth goes dry. I turn to Mateo, silently mouthing, Oh. My. God. The shift in my expression instantly grabs his attention, his brows lifting in concern.
"You spoke to my father?" I say, to let Mateo know that Lily probably knows everything.
"Is my father with you?" she asks, her tone sharp. "What happened to you not being into older men?"
"Lily, I—"
"You lied to me," she cuts me off, her voice laced with hurt. "Put him on the phone."
"Lily—" I try again, but she’s relentless.
"I said, put my father on the phone."
My heart pounds as I hand the phone to Mateo. "She wants to speak with you," I manage.
Mateo nods, his expression calm despite the storm brewing on the other end of the line. He takes the phone from my hand, but not before gently lifting my other hand and pressing a reassuring kiss to my knuckles. Then, with a steady resolve, he turns his attention to Lily.