13. Leah
CHAPTER 13
Leah
N ot feeling well. Won’t make it today . Marco sent me the message two hours before the salsa class. I was pissed as hell. We had sex this past weekend, and he was already wimping out. Pendejo !
The studio felt emptier without him.
The music was the same—lively, pulsing, daring me to feel something other than the anger simmering just beneath my skin. Viviana was effervescent, twirling across the floor in a neon yellow dress that only she could pull off, calling out instructions to the room.
Even though I knew he wouldn’t be there, I’d scanned the room instinctively when I got there, searching for his broad shoulders. But all I found was Viviana approaching me, her tone overly chipper as she said, “Marco’s not coming tonight, Leah. He called to cancel.”
Yeah, I knew!
I plastered on a smile for Viviana and told her it was fine, but it wasn’t.
The hour passed in a haze of forced smiles and robotic movements. Viviana’s dance partner, Antonio, was kind enough to step into Marco’s stinking shoes, but every step made me angrier.
I couldn’t stop replaying the last few days in my head—our night together, the way he’d looked at me like I was the only woman in the world.
And now? Nothing .
By the time class ended, I was a cocktail of emotions—hurt and confused. Added to that, a simmering rage was quickly bubbling to the surface.
I didn’t even realize I’d made the decision to drive to Marco’s house until I was halfway there.
The streets blurred past me as I processed what the hell I was doing.
Maybe I was overreacting. Perhaps he had a good reason. Or maybe… no . I wasn’t going to let myself spiral into the pathetic, self-loathing place I used to live in when Kevin started disappearing on me.
If Marco wanted to ghost me, he’d have to do it to my face.
When I pulled into his driveway, the house was dark except for a single light glowing in the living room window. I parked, slammed the car door, and marched to the front door, my heart pounding in my chest.
I rang the doorbell…unnecessarily hard.
It took a moment, but then the door opened.
“Leah?” Marco said, his voice low.
“Don’t you Leah me,” I snapped, pushing past him into the house.
He shut the door, turning to face me. “What are you?—”
“What am I doing here?” I cut him off, spinning around to glare at him. “You canceled class. I know why you did it, and I’m here to tell you to go fuck yourself.”
Marco began to cough then, and I finally noticed that he wasn’t feeling well at all.
His deep and raspy cough made my chest ache just hearing it. He leaned against his closed front door, clutching a tissue in one hand, his face pale.
“ Carino , I—” he started, but his voice cracked, and he coughed again.
I blinked, my anger faltering as I took in the sight of him. His broad shoulders were slumped, and his normally vibrant face was drawn and tired. He was wearing sweats and a rumpled T-shirt, his hair sticking up like he’d been lying down.
“You’re sick,” I acknowledged, my voice softening despite myself.
“Yeah,” he muttered, clearing his throat. “I texted you.”
Guilt pricked at me, and I folded my arms over my chest, though I couldn’t quite muster the anger I’d felt a moment ago. “I thought…I thought you were skipping class and me like a... pendejo !”
A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “You drove all the way here to call me a pendejo in person?”
“Yes!” I shot back, but the fire in my voice was mostly gone.
Marco chuckled, but it quickly turned into another coughing fit. He winced, pressing a hand to his chest. “Would it be okay for me to lie back down?”
“Oh, God.” I immediately went to him and led him to his couch, where I saw he’d made a nest for himself with tissues and remote controls.
“You know, you’re sexy when you’re pissed with me.”
I sighed, shaking my head. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re here.” His grin was weak but still charming.
I rolled my eyes. “Do you even have anything for this? Medicine, tea, soup?”
“Somewhere.”
“So, you were planning to just cough yourself to death alone?”
“Yep,” he admitted, slouching on the couch.
“Lie down, Marco. I’ll see what you’ve got in the kitchen.”
“Bossy,” he teased, but he did as I said.
He lay back with a groan, and I pulled a blanket over him. Placing my hand gently on his forehead, I could feel the heat radiating off him—he definitely had a fever. Yeah, I felt like an idiot for storming in here, guns blazing.
I rummaged through his cabinets, quickly finding some herbal tea and a half-empty jar of honey.
As the water boiled, I grabbed a mug and called out, “You don’t have anything better than chamomile?”
“It’s not a five-star kitchen, Leah,” he rasped back.
I rolled my eyes again, but a small smile crept onto my lips. I found some ibuprofen and once the tea was ready, I set it all on a tray. I brought it to him and put it on the coffee table.
“Here.” I watched as he leaned forward to take the mug. “Sip it slowly.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His voice was tinged with amusement.
“Now, have some ibuprofen.” I handed him pills, which he dutifully took.
I sank onto the couch beside him by his feet, crossing my legs and leaning back. For a moment, neither of us said anything.
“You didn’t have to come.” Marco stretched on the couch, and I put his feet on my lap, making sure the blanket covered him.
“I didn’t know you were sick,” I replied, meeting his gaze. “I thought you were avoiding me.”
He frowned, his expression earnest.
“I thought you fucked me and then…you know?”
“I’d never do that, carino .”
How to tell him trust was hard? Almost impossible. I felt like a fool but a happy one. He hadn’t gotten to know me to decide I wasn’t worth the effort.
“I know that now .” I grinned, wanting to lighten the mood. “You’re lucky I’m nice enough to bring you tea instead of murdering you…with my words, obviously.”
“Obviously.” Marco chuckled, his voice still rough, but his eyes crinkled with genuine mirth. “If I wasn’t sick, I’d want to fuck you hard. Big heart, fiery temper, baby, that’s my jam.”
“Promises, promises.” I waved him off, though my cheeks warmed. “Just drink your tea.”
He smiled at me then, soft and genuine, and I felt my heart shift.
Oh, no, I’d gone ahead and fallen in love with Marco Cabrera.
“Thank you, Leah.”
“For what? Not killing you?” I joked.
“For caring,” he replied.
“That part is easy with you, Marco,” I murmured.
He reached for my hand then, squeezing it lightly, and I let him.
I looked at the flickering television screen and frowned. “What on earth are you watching?”
“ Desperate Housewives of Atlanta .”
“Seriously?”
“Best thing there is for a cold.”
He was right.
We stayed on the couch for a while and watched some terrible reality TV that I found myself getting into. Then we went to his bed. I stayed with him all night. I went home, got my laptop, and stayed with him the next day and then the whole weekend until he started feeling better. When he asked me to stay Monday night with him, I did, and that’s when he showed me he was feeling fine. He fucked me hard.