28. Athena
CHAPTER 28
Athena
W hat the hell is wrong with Scott?
He’s sitting there looking like he’s trying to hold in diarrhea. Which we all know can only end in tears.
He doesn’t look at me. In fact, it’s like he’s pointedly trying not to look at me. Jesus Christ, did someone say something to him? If so, who?
Two of the team accept their plates from me, freeing up my arms. Surveying the table, there are at least three more waiting for food, and my brothers will need their second round soon enough. They can never get enough of Abuelita’s cooking.
When Scott eventually looks up at me, there’s a mania in his eyes I’ve never seen before. Is he on something? Fuck, he’s… something’s up with this man. I’m going to have to text him. Inconspicuously.
Back in the kitchen, Abuelita appears next to me. She’s somehow a quiet, stealthy mover for someone who’s not quite as nimble on her feet as she used to be. I’d say the old woman’s pushing ninety, but her only answer to the question ‘how old are you?’ is that a lady never reveals her age. Even Mamá claims she doesn’t know, or maybe Abuelita has sworn her to secrecy.
She puts her hand on my arm. “We need to talk.”
I steel my spine. If she’s about to give me a lecture about how Papá won’t like me being seen dating a “poor person”—his words, not mine—I’m ready for a fight.
I don’t know why she’d take his side. I’ve always thought she hated Papá, and considering when he met Mamá, she was the poor person in the relationship, I thought Abuelita would be on board with me and Scott.
Team Scothena. Athott.
Fuck. That doesn’t work. No cute mashup for us.
She guides me by the elbow out of the kitchen, and into the generously sized staff area. For the first few years it was little more than a shoe closet sized room, but Abuelita insisted on having more space for her team. She encouraged Mamá—who owns the place—to do something about it, and after a back-and-forth battle over planning permission from the authorities, we built an extension.
Pretty sure this is the best staff room in the entire city and beyond. Abuelita even bought a TV and gaming console for people to unwind on their break.
She really is the coolest, so when she locks the door, and turns to face me, I’m ready for war.
As I stare at her, every wrinkle and blemish on her skin stands out more under the harsh fluorescent lighting. It’s as though she’s aged fifteen years in the time it took us to walk in here.
“?Se lo vas a decir a tu madre?”
Am I going to tell Mamá what?
Abuelita stares at me expectantly, her eyes aren’t hard or judgmental, they’re concerned, and from the downturn of her mouth she’s disappointed. I really expected more from her.
“About Scott?”
Her brows bounce up. “Scott? ?Y él?” She prefers to speak Spanish when she can.
My face heats. Her features suggest she’s truly clueless about why I’d bring his name up in this situation, so now I have two problems. First, I’ve almost certainly outed myself to my grandmother, and second, I now have zero idea why I’m here or what I’m supposed to talk to Mamá about.
After what feels like the longest, silent standoff ever between us, her face softens. Her lips curl upward, and there’s a sparkle in her eyes that wasn’t there a moment ago. “Te tomó bastante tiempo.”
It took me long enough? To get with Scott?
“He’s been in love with you for a long time, Nieta. I’m glad you finally see it.” She takes my hand with both of hers. “Why did you think I would want to talk to you about that?” She studies my face, but I can’t meet her eyes, my skin burns hot with embarrassment. Not because I’m with Scott, but because I thought she might judge my relationship with him.
“Nieta!” She exclaims the term of affection on a sigh. “Did you think I wouldn’t approve because he isn’t a rich suitor?”
Suitor. She makes it sound like we’re in an episode of Bridgerton.
I still can’t look at her, so she tugs on my chin until I do. “Nieta, you should know better. There is no judgment here. We leave that for your father.”
The way she spits tu padre suggests she may know something I didn’t think she did, but perhaps I’m seeing something in her that I want to see.
“The heart wants who it wants. I don’t care if he’s a billionaire or a pauper. As long as he loves you for who you are and doesn’t try to change you, treats you well, and supports you on your quest to greatness.” She pats my forearm. “I may be getting on in years, but I can still dispose of a body when the need arises, Nieta.”
The twinkle in her eye sparkles, but I’m honestly not sure if she’s serious or not. Either way, my money’s on Abuelita. Every single day of the week. I certainly wouldn’t cross her.
“Love who you want, Athena. Don’t let anyone tell you who you should or shouldn’t give your heart to. That’s a decision you, and only you, get to make.” She squeezes my biceps, making a spark of emotion ignite in my stomach that quickly catches fire throughout my body. My throat swells with something I can’t name.
“If you love Scott, then be with Scott. If you don’t, then let him go. But don’t let anyone but the two of you make that choice.” She nods like that’s the end of the discussion, and she doesn’t need to say a single other word.
To her, it’s so simple. You love who you love, and if someone has a problem with it, it’s precisely that, their problem, not yours.
“If that wasn’t what you wanted to talk to me about, then qué?”
“ Tu padre .” Her voice is flat. She points to the comfy couch facing the sofa, and she makes her way to the drinks machine. “Abuelita?”
Must be bad if she’s breaking out the hot chocolate. “ Sí. Por favor .” Bad news is best heard over a cup of steaming, hot Abuelita.
When she’s done making drinks, she sits next to me on the couch and takes a sip. “ Tu padre es un imbécil infiel .”
She knows. How the heck did she find out? She points at me. “You know. I know you know.”
I nod. Should I tell her about the stepsiblings?
“He has a list of conquests as long as my arm.”
I sit my hot chocolate on my lap, suddenly uninterested in taking a drink. “Abuelita, how do you know about Papá?”
She waves a dismissive hand like that’s not the important part of the conversation and shifts her weight on the black leather sofa. “She won’t listen to me, Nieta. I’ve tried. She won’t leave your father.”
Abuelita drinks from her cup again. My heart squeezes. I used to see more of her when I worked in the restaurant as a teenager, but since I graduated high school and moved to college our time together has grown less and less.
“She might listen to you. Were you planning on talking to her about the whole situation?”
I shake my head. “Not yet, but I don’t know when, or how…” I take a drink but not because I want to, because I need to do something with my hands.
“Do your brothers?—?”
“Not the twins. I couldn’t tell them; it would destroy them. Ares is like a grenade with the pin pulled.”
“Scott?”
I nod, my cheeks heating again.
She pats my knee. “He’s good for you. Why won’t you talk to your mother?” Her stare grows more intense in that way that feels like your grandmother is staring directly into your soul.
There’s no point in lying to her. “I’m afraid, Abuelita. I’m scared she’ll stay with him. I’m scared she’s not as strong as I think she is. I’m scared her love for him will be stronger than her love for us.” My hand snaps to my mouth on a gasp, like I didn’t plan to let those words come out of my body, like I wasn’t sure they were in there to begin with.
Blinking back tears doesn’t help the pooling ache in my chest. What if she loves him more than us? That’s what it comes down to. What if she chooses Papá over us? Or worse, what if she chooses him over herself?
As a strong woman, I’ve studied women. I’ve read about domestic abuse, coercive control, toxic narcissists, and I’m not sure what level of hold he has on her. Is he abusing her? Or simply cheating on her?
What level of intervention will she need? Will we need to destroy him to bring him down? He’s rich, but between the five of us, I’m pretty sure we could take him on in a court of law if he brings the petty. I know businesses, rich people with more money than sense can crush ‘the little people,’ by drowning them in litigation. They waste time by taking them to court and throwing years of red tape at them until their pockets run dry.
The more I run over the thoughts in my brain the angrier I get. Ultimately, if Papá wants to throw the weight of his company behind him, his legacy will throw the weight of our collective companies behind us.
He may have helped make us into the resilient, strong, and very wealthy adults we are today, but he has no idea what lengths we will all go to to protect our mother.
Abuelita has cupped my cheek, she’s smoothing my tears away with her thumb. “It’s okay, Athena. You’re allowed to love your father.” She brushes my hair back from my face. “You’ve always been closest to him. Daddy’s little girl.”
There’s no judgment in her words but each one strikes my chest like an arrow drenched in guilt. He’s hurt Mamá, lied to all of us. I’m not sure I can ever forgive him.
“It’s okay to feel the hurt, Nieta. Without truly feeling the hurt, we cannot begin to let ourselves heal.”