9. Leah
CHAPTER 9
Leah
“ Y ou’re distracted,” Marco remarked, breaking through my thoughts as he guided me into another turn.
We were at our fourth salsa dance class, and it was clear we were improving. The whole class was. Marco and I had seen each other twice between lessons, and I could feel us settling into something that felt comfortable yet charged—like friends with an undeniable current of sexual chemistry.
Our goodnight kisses had grown hotter and deeper, leaving us both wanting more. The pull to take things further was undeniable, but at the same time, we were enjoying the slow burn of getting to know each other. It didn’t feel like the right time to take it to the next level—at least not yet.
“Sorry.”
“ And you look troubled,” he added.
“I’m so?—”
“Nothing to apologize about, carino . Tell me about it,” he insisted.
I hesitated, biting the inside of my cheek as we moved together. “It’s stupid.”
“Probably, but tell me anyway,” he teased.
I smiled. I couldn’t help it. He and I joked a lot, and that made spending time together infinitely comfortable and fun. Kevin and I didn’t laugh enough or much in our marriage. Compared to how Marco and I were when we were together, my marriage seemed so stiff and staid. I’d allowed Kevin to take over everything, including my agency. With Marco, I never felt that he was trying to control or direct. Marco respected me. What a novel concept!
“My son invited me to dinner,” I blurted out.
“That’s wonderful, Leah.”
“I don’t know,” I confessed. “It’s a dinner party at his place with his fiancée. Kevin, Brittany, and Presley will be there, too. I…I’m nervous.”
“You think this will be like the dinners you had as a family?” he deduced.
I nodded.
“Where they made you feel bad about yourself?”
I stopped moving. “Need a break,” I called out to Viviana, who nodded.
Marco held my hand as he walked me to the table where there was water and plastic cups. I filled a glass, guzzled it, and did it again.
“They’re my kids. It’s silly to be afraid of them.”
I felt like a coward.
Marco put his hands on my shoulder and, not caring who said what brushed his lips against mine. “Not silly at all. I’d be scared shitless if I were you.”
That elicited a snort from me.
“Do you want to go?” he asked.
“Yes, but?—”
“Then we’ll go.”
I arched an eyebrow. “What?”
“Then we’ll go.” He kissed me again and then frowned. “Who the fuck is Brittany?”
I chuckled. “Kevin’s girlfriend.”
“The physical trainer? The one he cheated on you with?”
“Oh, that was Candy, and she was three or four girlfriends ago,” I stated dryly.
“Brittany sounds like a stripper name.”
“She’s a Pilates instructor and half his age.”
“Sounds like your ex has a type.”
“Blonde, stacked, and young?” I asked bitterly. I’d never been any of those things. Well, I’d been young when we met, but he was my age, so we’d been young together .
“What are you worried about?” he coaxed, drawing me away from the table because Viviana had called for a break, and the others would be coming over to the table.
He led me to one of the tall windows, continuing to hold my hand. It felt good to have someone care about me, about how I was feeling.
“Presley is still so angry with me. Olivia…doesn’t like me. Davis is all cold and formal. He wanted that clerkship, and he worried that if he showed that he cared about me, his father wouldn’t help him. Which he’s probably right about.”
“Like I said, his father is a pendejo .” Marco’s grip on my hand tightened slightly, a subtle reassurance. “You’re worried that it’s going to be a minefield, and you don’t know what you’re going to step on.”
“Yes,” I admitted, my voice cracking as panic surged inside me. “The idea of sitting there, with all of them looking at me like I’m some kind of failure. But I have to go, right? Davis finally reached out. This is my chance to rebuild a relationship with my children.”
“You’re not a failure. And you won’t be alone.”
“You really want to come to my family dinner, which will be a total shitshow?”
“I’m Latin. We love drama. And dinner with your ex, his current squeeze, your kids…oh, it’s got telenovela-level drama written all over it.”
I chuckled and rolled up on my toes to kiss him.
“Alright, lovebirds. Back to the dance floor.” Viviana clapped.
“Come on.” Marco drew me into his arms and danced me back to where the other couples were.
“Nice footwork, Marco,” Viviana complimented.
As we danced, we talked about the logistics for the dinner at Davis’s place.
“You sure you want to come, Marco?” I asked again.
“Of course. If I’m not there, who’s going to stare down those who treat you poorly?”
“Stare down?”
“I’m Latin, carino. No one can glare people into submission like us.” He twirled me, and joy unfurled inside me.