Page 135 of When Lies Unfold

He watches me over the rim of his coffee cup, amusement sparkling in his eyes as I devour a ton of bacon alongside my croissant and a helping of gallo pinto.

It dawns on me that he doesn’t have bacon or a croissant on his plate aside from some scrambled eggs and a smaller helping of the rice and beans.

Suddenly self-conscious, I gesture to my plate. “Are you not having any bacon or a croissant?”

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “Don’t normally eat that.” Setting his cup down, he pats his flat stomach. “Gotta stay in shape somehow.”

I frown, my words emerging slowly. “But I thought that was why Javier’s been making all this. I assumed this was what you preferred.”

“No.” That’s it. That’s all he says.

My confusion gives way to a dawning realization. “You don’t eat any of this?”

“No.” He takes another drink of coffee, glancing at the sleek watch on his wrist. “I asked Javier to prepare it ’cause they’re your favorites.”

He says this like it’s nothing. As if anyone would do something like that—especially for someone they initially viewed as a threat.

Before I realize it, I’m out of my chair and circling the table to take his face in my hands to plant a kiss on his lips. His hands automatically settle at my waist, and when I lean back, he stares at me with surprise.

A sudden barrage of shyness hits me, and I whisper, “Thank you.”

“For what? Feedin’ you?” With a grunt, he shrugs off the compliment. “Just makin’ sure you were gettin’ enough to eat, is all.”

But I know better. I just didn’t see it initially. He takes care of people. He isn’t the evil monster I originally thought he was.

And I’ve fallen for him—I’m head-over-heels gone for this man. Even as my heart sings, it twists painfully in the next instant. Because there’s no future for us.

I may be in love with Santiago Hernández, but I could never truly be a part of his world.

Because Lola Arias doesn’t actually exist.

58

SANTIAGO

If anybody had told me I’d be outside with my daughter and Lola barefoot in the grass, “grounding,” I’d think they were fuckin’ high.

But here I am, and damn if the look on Alma’s face isn’t worth it. “Do you feel the energy from the earth transferrin’ to your body?”

“Yes,” Lola chimes in with a smirk. “Do you feel it?”

When I answer, “Totally,” Alma’s grin grows even wider. Leanin’ close to Lola, I whisper in her ear, “I know what I plan to feel later on tonight.”

I love the flush that colors her cheeks. But before I can say more, my cell phone rings, and as much as I hate seein’ Alma’s disappointed expression, I gotta check it.

When I see who the call’s from, I frown as I answer it. “There a reason you’re callin’ me when you’re inside the house?”

The slightest hesitation has me on edge before Gordo speaks, his voice muted. “Andro’s here. Says he needs to talk to you and Lola in person. Wants to apologize.”

Shock radiates through me. The fuck? As if he heard my thoughts, he says, “He’s unarmed. Made sure of it. What do you want me to do?”

Of-fuckin-course, when I have a free minute and am enjoyin’ myself, the universe—in the form of my nephew—chooses to screw with me.

“He seems sincere.” Gordo grunts. “Then again, it is Andro.”

I mull it over. “You said he wants to apologize?” Even sayin’ it out loud, it sounds like bullshit. I glance back to find Lola watchin’ me with a worried expression.

“Yeah. He said it was important. That he regrets his actions.”

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