Chapter 5 – Maddie
Don’t Try to Play Abuela
Maddie
I JUMP WHEN my phone starts ringing in my hand, heart leaping into my throat, stomach crashing to my feet.
It’s gotta be Leo calling to tell me he’s changed his mind and isn’t coming over after all.
I should probably be relieved—uncertainty and nerves have made it hard to sit still since I extended the invitation—but I can’t stifle the disappointment settling in my gut.
I know I didn’t spend a lot of time with him tonight, but they were the best fifteen minutes I’ve had in as long as I can remember. Leo made me feel seen. He made me feel respected. Wanted.
Safe.
I can’t help but want more of that. Especially when there’s a chance I am decidedly unsafe.
Taking a deep breath to temper my turmoil of emotions, I lift my phone to connect the call. But when my eyes land on the screen, it’s not Leo’s name illuminated in the dim light of my apartment.
Now, it’s not disappointment I’m fighting, but frustration. And maybe even a little anger. Because this conversation might cause even more drama than I’m already dealing with. But I can’t ignore it. Wouldn’t even if I could.
Connecting the call, I try to force a smile into my voice. “Hi, Abuela. You’re awake late. Is everything okay?”
If I hadn’t just listened to my parents drone on about my continuously terrible life choices, I would be worried she’d fallen—or worse. But I know my grandmother isn’t calling me because she needs help.
She’s calling me to rant.
“You know darn well everything is not okay, muneca.” Her tone is sharp and snappy.
“Your mother has clearly forgotten what an idiot she was when she was young.” My Abuela pauses.
“Not that you’re being an idiot. Everyone makes mistakes.
It’s part of life.” My grandmother snorts.
“And she has conveniently forgotten all the ones in her past.”
I sigh, butt dropping to the secondhand couch in my tiny living room. “I guess this means she called you already?”
I knew my mom was mad—or disappointed, or both—but I didn’t think she was ‘call her mother at midnight to tell on me’ mad.
Shows what I know.
“Of course she did.” My grandmother scoffs. “Which means she’s still an idiot, because she should know I would never agree with her on this.”
I cringe, because I’m not sure I want the answer to my next question. “Agree with her on what?”
The grievances my mother has with me are long and varied. She seems to keep a mental list of them, whipping it out whenever I do something she doesn’t like.
Which is often.
“That she has any business meddling in your life. You are a grown woman who can make her own choices, muneca. Your mother had her chance to run things when you were a kid, but now you get to decide how your life goes.” My grandmother lowers her voice like she’s trying to speak under her breath, but I still hear her next words carry through the line.
“And that’s probably the best thing for you, because ?Dios mío! your mother is a pain in the ass.”
It doesn’t make me happy to know I’m not the only daughter facing a strained relationship with her mother, but I am glad I’m not the only one struggling with my mother’s opinionated and holier-than-thou personality.
I choose my words carefully when I reply. “I understand where she’s coming from.”
That part is true. I genuinely do see why my mother thinks I should sit at home, alone and isolated.
If Drake were to suspect I was seeing someone new—or even simply enjoying life without him—there’s no telling how he would react.
It’s probably safest for everyone if I am by myself as much as possible.
And I’ve tried to do that. Spent months doing nothing but working in the office and walking back to the first home I’ve ever called just my own. Initially, I loved it. Loved the peace and quiet. Loved knowing I wouldn’t possibly be walking into a nightmare every time I crossed the threshold.
But when the novelty of it wore off, I started to feel like a sitting duck. I’ve tried my best to make sure Drake doesn’t know where I live, but it’s only a matter of time before he finds me. Discovers where I’m working and figures everything out from there.
And I don’t know what will happen when he does.
I want so much to think he’s already moved on—even though I hate the thought of another woman suffering the way I did—but I don’t think it will matter even if he has. No one has ever stood up to him the way I did, and he is intent on punishing me for it.
“Muneca, you never know what tomorrow will bring, but it will always come. It is up to you to decide how you spend today. If you want to hide yourself away so you feel safe, then that’s what you should do.
” My Abuela’s voice is strong. “But if you want to enjoy every minute you are given, you shouldn’t be made to feel bad about finding happiness.
” Her tone turns sharp. “Especially by your own mother.”
I close my eyes on a sigh. It’s so nice to have someone on my side, but I won’t be the one to get between my mother and grandmother. “It’s okay, Abuela. I’m sorry Mom bothered you so late.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, muneca.” My grandmother almost sounds angry. “And the sooner you figure that out, the happier your life is going to be.”
I know I apologize too much. Especially for things that aren’t even my fault. I want to stop, but it’s hard to stand up for myself. To live without feeling like I have to ask for forgiveness for anything I get wrong.
And half the stuff I don’t.
“Te amo, Abuela. I’ll call you tomorrow.” After wishing my grandmother sweet dreams, I end our call, dropping my cell to the sofa before letting my head fall into my hands.
Why does any bit of happiness I start to find get squashed immediately?
I was so happy to find my job here at Sweet Side Apartments, and then discovered the last woman who had it before me left a mess I’ll spend a year trying to clean up.
I was excited to have my own place, until I discovered how many paychecks it would take to fill the rooms with furniture.
Even tonight, my parents have managed to pee on my parade not just once, but twice. First by making me feel bad about the best thing I’ve experienced with a man in years, and now by making me feel guilty over possibly causing issues between my mom and grandmother.
But any dwelling I might do over the night’s events is cut short by a quiet knock on my door.
Even after everything that’s happened tonight— and how conflicted I am about all of it—my heart picks up speed. I still hesitate, torn between what I want to do and what I’ve been told is right.
But like the force he is, Leo knocks again, harder this time. Like he won’t let me back out. Won’t let me be alone.
Won’t let me be afraid.
I take a deep breath as I stand, smoothing down the sweatshirt I changed into as soon as I got home as I make my way to the door. Swallowing hard, I open it.
And nearly stumble back. Because how is this man so freaking big?
Leo fills the doorway. His tall, broad body hasn’t even crossed the threshold, and already my little apartment feels smaller.
He might be the most physically imposing person I’ve ever met.
The kind of man a woman like me might shy away from.
If I didn’t know him, I’d probably see Leo and run the opposite direction.
But I do know him. At least I used to. And the Leo I knew would never hurt anyone.
Well, off the pitch anyway.
He gives me a lopsided grin as he holds up two plastic grocery bags, the handles pulled tight against his fingers from the substantial weight they’re carrying. “I come bearing gifts.”
Yeah, he does. The bags aren’t totally transparent, but I can see through them enough to identify the shapes of the items packed inside. “Did you buy all the frosting in existence?”
“Nah.” Leo’s grin widens. “Just everything at Publix.” He gives me a wink. “Thought we could do some taste testing. Decide which one’s the best.”
I don’t know why, but my chest feels weirdly warm over his eagerness to indulge with me. “You are a brilliant man.” I step back, making room for him to pass. “Come in.”
Leo barely hesitates, a flicker of something I can’t identify passing over his handsome features, but disappearing before I can even begin to read into it. Then he’s in my home, blue eyes taking in my apartment. My sanctuary.
Also occasionally my prison.
I go to the kitchen to retrieve a couple spoons and give my heated cheeks time to cool. “Sorry there’s not many places to sit.”
I’ve put off getting a table and chairs because I haven’t really felt like I’ve needed them, but now the empty dining room has embarrassment gnawing at my insides. I can’t begin to guess how much a professional rugby player makes, but I bet it’s more than enough to afford furniture.
“Have you lived here long?” Leo follows me, his presence palpable but not oppressive.
“Not too long.” I retrieve the spoons from the cute little spinning organizer on the counter and turn to him.
“I moved here when I got the job as property manager.” I almost cringe, hoping he doesn’t see through my words to the reasons beneath them.
I could have simply answered his question, but I couldn’t stop myself from squeezing in the only bit of my life I’m proud of.
Because I don’t want him to think I’m a mess. Even though I am.
“Property manager, huh?” Leo continues trailing behind me as I go into the living room, moving toward the only seating I have. “You like it?”
“I actually do.” A smile curves my lips as I settle onto the comfortable cushions, tucking one leg under my butt. “It’s definitely entertaining.”
Leo sits beside me and leans back, stretching one arm along the headrest of the couch. “Tell me about it.”
He wants to hear about my job?
That’s…unexpected.
My parents don’t have a great marriage—one reason I’m not sure how interested I am in their opinions on how I live my life—and I can say with complete certainty I’ve never heard my dad ask my mom about her day.
I can also say with complete certainty, Drake never asked me about mine. He wasn’t interested in anything that didn’t involve him. It was irrelevant, and had nothing to do with the purpose I served in his life.
“Well…” I turn, angling my body so I’m facing Leo, surprisingly excited to tell him about my new career. “It’s a fifty-five and up community, so I expected it to be pretty tame.” I snort. “I was so wrong.”
I recount my conversation with Mrs. Dorsey and her desire for a skylight.
Leo’s attention stays on me the whole time, like he genuinely wants to hear what I have to say.
He laughs at Mrs. Dorsey’s hate for her upstairs neighbor and cringes at her use of the word ‘juices’.
By the time I’m done, I realize, not only am I more relaxed than I’ve been in months, but I’ve also managed to get myself tucked close to his side.
Like we do this every night. Like we’re a couple.
A happy one.
That sobers me a little, the smile making my cheeks ache slipping from my face. I start to lean away, feeling silly for letting myself think—
Leo’s hand curves at my shoulder, keeping me in place. “Now tell me what’s going on.”
My eyes jump to his, finding nothing but warmth and patience reflecting back at me. “What do you mean?”
His gaze moves over my face. “Why did my parents tell me I had to stay away from you?” His fingers stroke along my shoulder through the thick fabric of my sweatshirt. “And why did your parents make you leave the party?”
I swallow hard, wondering how much Leo already knows. Probably more than I think based on the careful way he asked his questions.
Normally, I sort of glaze over the full scope of what happened, but it feels wrong to do that now. To hold back on what I’m facing.
So I take a deep breath, my earlier excitement fully extinguished. “I’m in the middle of a divorce.” I wince, afraid of his reaction. “A bad one.”
Leo’s jaw tightens more and more as I lay out the reality of the past few years of my life. The control. The abuse. The imbalance of power.
The fear.
The pain.
The loss of so many hopes. So many dreams.
So many parts of myself.
I want them back, and sitting here with Leo makes me think there’s a chance I might get them. Maybe one day I can be a normal person again. Not a victim. Not a statistic.
Just Maddie Miller.
When I’m done, I seal my lips together, watching Leo for any sign of what he’s thinking.
The seconds tick past as I wait to see if yet another person is going to judge me for what they think I should have known.
But when Leo speaks, it’s got nothing to do with judgment.
Reaching into one of the bags he left at his feet, he pulls out two tubs of frosting, passing one of them to me. “It makes sense now why you eat icing straight from the tub.”
My still sealed lips curve into a cautious smile. “It’s cheaper than therapy.”
Leo pops the lid off his indulgent treat before peeling away the foil seal. “I’m sure you already know this, but you should probably also talk to someone about everything.”
I understand what he’s saying, and I know I should look into it.
But after years of worrying if I’m making everyone else happy, I’ve struggled to work up the nerve to confess my sins to a stranger.
Even one who charges hourly. “I am talking to someone.” I try for a smile, hoping it will bring a little levity to the conversation. “I’m talking to you.”
Leo studies me for a second, then reaches out to open the frosting I still haven’t bothered with. He passes it back, the tips of his fingers brushing mine. “You can talk to me anytime, Maddie.”