Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Tre
Fate. Destiny. Cosmic forces. The devil.
I don’t know what the fuck it is, but I’m so fucked all over again.
I’m at Toria and Alejandro’s housewarming party.
I really only know Toria and Joaquin here.
I’m more of an acquaintance to the rest of the Diaz family.
I don’t know any of the Diaz men, and Toria’s just starting to make her own friends in New York.
It’s part of why I’m here since I’m a familiar face.
However, I can’t cling to her since she’s the hostess.
Toria and Alejandro decided to do the party as a Sunday brunch, so there’s food on practically every surface. My stomach’s in knots over Joaquin. It doesn’t make for a pleasant combination.
It’s been three days since the movie disaster and two days since he rescued me at the club and barely spoke to me during the car ride to my place.
I can think of a million places I’d rather be.
Instead, my head’s throbbing, and I keep swallowing the nausea that keeps creeping up on me.
I surreptitiously swipe my fingers over my forehead as though I’m pushing hair out of the way, but I’m wiping the perspiration from my brow.
Why the fuck is it so hot in here? With so many people, Toria should’ve put on the AC.
Even though he’s been avoiding me, I notice Joaquin watching me closely as I sip my water. He doesn’t want me, but he won’t leave me alone. He noticed I don’t feel well. I don’t know how he can tell from across the room, but I sense his concern. Why can’t he check on me?
I mean, I don’t want to answer any questions or explain anything, but it would be nice if he tried. After all, he’s the reason I’m so uncomfortable. I scan the people in the living room and kitchen, along with those I can see on the patio. I really know no one.
Sera and Carmine aren’t here because they have their own family event. Elle—Enrique’s wife—is the Cartel’s equivalent of la madrina—the godmother—so she has responsibilities, even if this isn’t her house. She’s the only person I know well, and it’s a bit awkward these days.
I head toward the French doors out to the garden when a server offers me a canapé, and I nearly gag over the finger food.
I slip onto the patio, and my nerves ease.
I don’t know if it’s the fresh air or being out of Joaquin’s line of sight.
Either way, I relax. I take several deep inhales and roll my shoulders back.
“Trish, are you all right?”
I turn toward Elle as she stops beside me. She and my mom are the only people who call me Trish. I smile and nod. She gives me one of her piercing stares that have intimidated me since I was a teenager.
“You know I was politely telling you to tell me what’s wrong.”
“I know. There are just a lot of people here. It got a bit too warm for me inside.”
“What you mean is there’s one too many Joaquins for your comfort.”
Does this woman have to be so fucking blunt all the fucking time?
“He’s not pleased I’m here, and there are only so many places I can hide.”
“Why do you think he isn’t pleased?”
“Elle, he refuses to speak to me. I don’t know what I did wrong, but he can’t stand me.”
You give kids cupcakes at birthday parties.
They’re desserts—the best part of any meal.
Coming from Sera, they’re something baked with love.
It’s not like I offered him arsenic. Maybe they’re not the typical post-sex treat, but I don’t get how they tanked everything.
How am I solely to blame? He could’ve suggested breakfast, but he didn’t.
Yet somehow they’re the demise of a would-be relationship.
Her expression shifts, and it’s the maternal one I’m used to. It lifts an invisible weight from my chest.
“Trish, you couldn’t be more wrong. Joaquin may be impressive to look at, but he’d rather go unnoticed. He’s shy. It’s why you two are a perfect fit. An introvert and extrovert who can balance each other.”
“You sound like you’re ready to marry us off. I wouldn’t expect that from you of all people.”
“You and Steven broke up ages ago. It’s not like I think you’re going to leave my son for my nephew.
I’ve known you since you were born. I watched you grow up.
You’ve spent more time at my houses over the past thirty years than nearly anyone outside my immediate families. I think I know you pretty damn well.”
A sense of horror passes through me as I fear she’s going to confirm the real reason I’m in New York. But she doesn’t go down that path.
“I offended him, then the dinner at Sera’s and the movies—both monumental disasters.
He protected me at the bar, then barely spoke to me in the car.
Now he’s avoiding me. I thought I was doing the right thing by offering him some fu—damn cupcakes, but you’d think I offered to poison him.
He completely shut down the moment I did.
Since then, it’s been supremely awkward between us. ”
“Duci, I overheard the boys talking the other day. You said thanks and waited for him to leave.” Sweetie in Sicilian.
My eyes widen. Part of it is shock and mortification that Elle openly acknowledges I slept with her nephew.
Part of it is surprise that anyone’s still discussing it.
It’s been weeks. And most of it is regret that Joaquin so completely and utterly misunderstood the entire situation, and it ruined everything since then.
“Elle, I wasn’t waiting for him to leave.
I was waiting for him to invite me to breakfast, but he didn’t.
He looked at his watch, got his clothes, and clearly ran out like his backside was on fire.
I offered the cupcakes because I thought it would be an excuse to go a few blocks over to Sera’s bakery. ”
Why does it take a conversation with my high school boyfriend’s mom to learn why the guy I currently have a massive crush on thinks I’m trash?
Tears sting my eyes, and another wave of nausea hits me. I swallow the lump in my throat. It doesn’t help that there’s an overwhelming scent of onions cooking on the grill for the burgers, and we’re suddenly downwind from the smoke. At least that can be my excuse for my watering eyes.
“Trish, you don’t look well. This is more than regret over a miscommunication or a boy you like not talking to you. You’ve been off since you arrived.”
“It was just too warm for me inside, and there are a lot of smells. You know I have a sensitive nose and allergies.”
“I also know your allergies don’t make you look like you want to puke.”
“Maybe I caught something.”
Elle studies me for a moment. “You can’t catch pregnancy.”
All I can do is blink. I don’t think my heart or lungs are still working.
I can’t process a thought. I knew I missed a pill, but I told myself I was fine.
I even took the missed one as a catch-up, but it was two days late.
I was sure I wasn’t close to ovulating yet.
I take my pill at the same time every morning, so I was sure I was covered by the hormones still in my system.
Fuck!!!
“Duci, you turn green every time food goes by or you get a whiff of something cooking. You’re clammy because you’re fighting the nausea. You look like you aren’t sleeping well, and I don’t believe it’s just because of Joaquin being standoffish. Are you late?”
I open my mouth to deny it, but I can’t.
“Elle, oh my God. My cycle has never been exactly the same length every month, and I wouldn’t know if it were since my pill has no placebo week. I had no reason to think my period was late. Oh, God.”
“What do you want to do? I can slip out to the pharmacy down the block if you want to know right now. You can do it later if you prefer. I can be with you, or you can have privacy. Whatever you want.”
“I—I—don’t know.”
The blood’s pounding in my ears so loudly that I can barely hear Elle.
My head’s floating somewhere above my body.
If ever there were an out-of-body experience, this is it.
My throat’s dry, and I might burst into tears.
This wasn’t even remotely on my mind as a possibility.
She could’ve warmed me up to the idea. I wasn’t ready.
I want to collapse, but I can’t. There are people around. The first lesson in being part of a Mafia family: never make a scene unless it’s to your advantage. There’s no advantage to possibly being unwed and pregnant with a baby daddy who can barely say more than five words to you at a time.
“Will you tell him one way or another?”
“If I’m not, no, but if I am, of course. I could never keep that from him. But your family is going to lose their ever-loving minds with me.”
I want to say shit, but I still try not to swear in front of my parents, and Elle is basically my second mom.
“Why?”
“I heard about what happened with Alejandro when someone accused him of having a child outside of marriage. Catalina lost it. You were there. You know what happened to that man. I don’t, but I know no one’s seen him since. The Diaz family doesn’t do children out of wedlock. I won’t trap him.”
“First of all, Catalina lost her shit because the pezzo di merda claimed Alejandro was a deadbeat dad. It had nothing to do with whether he was unmarried and had a kid. Secondly, Joaquin may want to give his opinion on what’ll happen, but he won’t force anything on you, just like I know you’d never force anything on him. Talk to him.” Piece of shit.
That’s the first time she’s ever sworn in front of me.
“I’m scared.”
What the fuck have I done?
What’re my parents going to say?
What will Joaquin do?
My thoughts are buzzing, and I’m on the verge of tears.
Elle pulls me in for a hug. The same kind I’ve been getting since I was a toddler trying to keep up with her boys.
The same one she gave me when I shot up six inches in sixth grade and everyone teased me for being a string bean.
The same one she gave me when Steven and I drifted apart and broke up.
I squeeze my eyes shut and accept the comfort.