Chapter 27
TOMáS
This is the third email Ralph has sent this hour alone, each one more condescending than the last.
All instructing me on exactly what to say and how to say it when I meet with Sarina’s dad, acting as if I’m a new associate, still learning the ropes.
I don’t share in Ralph’s anxiety over meeting Mr. Tesoro.
I’ve secured many a new client for the firm, more than most partners, Ralph included.
I know the rejection we got when I met with Mr. Tesoro’s business associate in Colorado had nothing to do with my delivery and everything to do with his need to be in control.
If that wasn’t the case, then he would have representation by now.
He’s a man who clearly likes to test the limits and play games.
Nothing I’m not used to with some of our more elusive clients.
However, what I’m not used to, is meeting with a client under these very unconventional circumstances.
I’m here to represent Turner & Vize, yes, but that’s secondary to me being here as Sarina’s plus one.
A complex web we’ve woven ourselves into, but it’s nothing that I’m not confident I can handle. At least, I hope I can.
“Ralph must be ecstatic the time has finally arrived,” Sarina says, eyeing my phone.
I stuff my phone in my back pocket as we make our way to the front entrance of her parents’ home. “Yeah, he’s eager, that’s for sure.”
As soon as my hand leaves the taut confines of my pocket, it’s met with Sarina’s. Her fingers gently graze the protruding vein traveling through the center of my hand. It’s such a simple gesture, but it’s enough to spread a wave of calm over me.
“Nervous?”
“What gave it away? My clammy palm?”
She shakes her head. “You keep breathing in through your nose.”
“Well, yeah, I’m not a mouth breather,” I joke, and the smile it earns me from her makes me wish that I was actually funny because she seems so amused —so comfortable.
“I don’t know about that, you were breathing pretty loud, with your mouth open, last night. What I meant was, I’ve noticed when you’re stressed that you breathe through your nose loudly.”
She proceeds to demonstrate, and if it weren’t for the fact that she looks so adorable imitating how I apparently breathe when I’m stressed, I’d be horrified. I never noticed I did that before, not until she pointed it out.
“Thank you,” I say.
“For what?”
“For noticing.”
It’s such a minor detail, and an arguably ridiculous one. Still, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten close enough to someone for them to pick up on an idiosyncrasy of mine before. And thanks to her —where I should feel embarrassed— I feel honored, and only slightly embarrassed.
Squeezing my hand, she lifts it upward until it skims her lips.
“Aww, come on, of course I noticed. My ears wouldn’t allow me to ignore or forget such a sound.
” Bedroom eyes peer up at me. “There’s more to you than how good you look…
” she presses a kiss to the top of my hand.
An unexpected switch-up, but one I’m welcoming tenfold. “…and how good you make me feel.”
Heat runs rampant to my cheeks, my neck, over my entire body, rendering me silent.
I remain frozen, locked in a trance that I’d willingly surrender myself to, repeatedly, if given the option.
Her mouth continues to move, saying words I should be paying attention to, but all I can focus on is how my pulse is settling despite feeling my heart skip beat after beat. All because she’s here, with me.
“Same to you,” are the first words I’m able to process, as I come back to.
Footsteps echo on the other side of the door, but it doesn’t stop me from moving closer. My hand cups the small of her back.
Before she can answer, the front door swings open, and we’re greeted by Sarina’s sister, Harper and her fiancée Chloe.
Immediately I’m struck, not only by their kindness and warm greeting, but by how happy they are together.
Their movements are in perfect synchrony to one another’s, both moving with the kind of ease that comes with years of being together.
Years of noticing and appreciating the small details.
A twist of jealousy finds its way to my core because I want what they have. With Sarina. I want it to be real.
We stay in the entrance foyer, talking to Harper and Chloe until Sarina’s mom appears. There’s an immediate energy shift, impossible to miss it. Not only because Harper and Chloe excused themselves in a hurry as Mrs. Tesoro walked toward us.
My heart sinks as I watch Sarina hug her mom with a smile on her face that fades the moment it is not returned.
Where Harper and Chloe are warm and inviting, Sarina’s mother is not.
Even as I extend my hand out to hers introducing myself, she seems disinterested.
There’s no “So good to see you” to her daughter, or “So nice to meet you” to me. It’s quick and emotionless. It appears that Sarina’s mom is more interested in messing with the table setting in the dining room, than talking with either of us.
Sarina mentioned in passing that her mom takes hosting very seriously, and now I can see for myself how true that is.
As beautiful as their home is with every inch decorated to the nines, it doesn’t feel like a home.
I’m used to my mom’s place —filled with family pictures spanning over the years, and sentimental trinkets lining the shelves.
From what I can see, there’s not even one family photo or memento to be seen.
It feels hollow, and almost as cold as Sarina has warned me multiple times how her father is.
Wondering where the man of the hour is, I glance down at my watch. Considering how many times he texted Sarina the past two days reminding her of the time we were expected to arrive, we’ve been here about thirty minutes and he’s nowhere to be seen.
“Is Dad around?” Sarina asks her mom.
She receives a partial response, as her mom busies herself with a centerpiece on the table.
Sarina rolls her eyes, a sentiment both Harper and Chloe share.
“Typical,” Sarina mutters under her breath
A few minutes pass before Sarina’s mom instructs us to find our assigned seat via the table setting cards centered on each plate in the dining room since dinner is about to be served.
My jaw flexes seeing my name typed on the small card. I’m next to Sarina on one side… and her father on the other.
More time passes before we are finally graced with Mr. Tesoro’s presence.
Sarina’s demeanor, as well as her sister’s and her fiancée’s, all shift. Everyone, aside from their mom —who remains poised— does.
The tension in the air is so thick, a knife could cut through it.
It’s palpable. Contagious. Still, out of respect, I rise from my chair as he nears it, to introduce myself.
He stops, standing directly in front of me, staring at my outstretched hand, though he doesn’t return the gesture.
Instead, he offers me a blank stare for a beat, before his gaze scans me with quick, disinterested precision, as if he’s sizing me up.
His hand moves forward, but not to shake mine.
He merely points at my vacant chair. “You can sit,” he sneers, cold as can be.
Well, this is off to a great start.
Sarina’s mom pops up from her seat, asking what he’d like to drink, and gets up to fix it for him. Awkward silence fills the room despite Harper and Chloe talking amongst themselves.
“It’s nice to see you, Dad.” Sarina breaks the silence, timid as can be. Not sounding like the woman I’ve come to know whatsoever.
Expecting her father to respond, I draw my gaze to him, but he simply ignores her, with all his attention glued to his phone, thumbing away at it as if he didn’t hear her.
Sarina must sense the shift happening in me. Her hand drifts to my thigh, squeezing it as she whispers my name.
It’s no wonder he ignored our meeting months ago. I mean if he can’t even give his own daughter the time of day, how could I expect him to extend me or anyone else, the courtesy of a simple hello.
“I don’t think he heard you,” I say to Sarina, loud enough for him to hear.
He grunts, with a smug grin on his face, still not bothering to look up from his phone.
My blood pressure begins to rise.
“It’s okay,” she whispers. A timid warning. “Just forget about it.”
I hear her.
I really do.
But it’s not okay.
Not one fucking bit.
He can ignore me all he wants and pretend like I don’t exist, but to do so to his own daughter, in front of me? I don’t think so.
I clear my throat with a force that echoes in the quiet dining room. “Sir, Sarina was talking to you.”
Finally, something gets his attention. “I heard her.”
Sarina’s hand still rests on my lap, and I can feel it growing colder by the second. I place mine overtop hers, underneath the table. “All right, I wasn’t sure since you didn’t respond.”
He skirts his gaze to Sarina, and the grin plastered on his face, widens, growing more sadistic in appearance. “Hello, mia figlia, what an honor it is for you to finally grace us all with your presence.” He peers to me once more. “Is that better?”
Nothing Sarina warned me about her dad could have prepared me for the level of dickhead this guy is.
With Sarina’s hand in mine, underneath the table for no one to see, and only us to feel, I caress it, as I try to drum up a response that won’t lead to a fist fight.
“I was just making sure is all, you seem preoccupied.”
“That’s because I am,” he spews. “Sarina, I didn’t realize your date was so inquisitive.”
Air leaks out of her mouth where words were intended to come out. I can’t tell if she’s speechless or hesitant of what to say that will appease this seemingly impossible man she has to call dad.
My phone vibrates in my pants pocket. Likely another email from Ralph, if I had to guess. I ignore it, about to say something in her defense, but Mr. Tesoro beats me to it.
“Everyone thank your mother for putting together this feast for us and lets eat.”