Page 30 of Love or Tequila in Unexpected Places

“Wait. Give me a second.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Angelo could practically hear the gears grinding in Katia’s mind. Then,just as he expected, she started laughing so hard she sounded like a dying baby seal.

“Are you serious, Angie?” Katia asked, still laughing.

“Katerina, come on! I’ve asked you a million times not to call me that!” Angelo scoffed at the silly nickname his baby sister loved to torture him with. “And yes, I’m serious.”

“Your business rival? That’s the plot twist I didn’t see coming! Are you sure this isn’t some elaborate prank?”

Angelo knew, logically, that Katerina’s question made sense. It could very well be a lie—a tactic to get him to agree to the merger with Allison’s father. Yet there was something in her eyes that made him trust her.

“No, it’s not a prank,” he chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Turns out, my love life is basically a soap opera at this point.”

“Wow. So, you really went for the ‘keeping your enemies close’ strategy, huh?” She laughed. “This is like a reality show waiting to happen.”

“Don’t remind me,” Angelo said, shaking his head. “I can already hear the family dinners filled with passive-aggressive comments. ‘Oh, how’s the baby doing? I hope she takes after hermotherin business sense and not her father.’”

“Classic!” Katia said, practically cackling. A moment later, she was perfectly serious as she spoke again. “Just make sure you don’t get hurt.”

Angelo’s heart warmed at his sister’s concern. “Don’t worry,mikrí. I’ll be alright.”

“Don’t call me that,Angie.”

He chuckled as he pictured the way his baby sister would be sticking out her tongue right now, likely in an exaggerated manner that only a six-year-old could pull off. A couple of silly remarks later about how she could probably win a gold medal in the Olympic sport of tongue-sticking, they hung up.

One down, two to go.

Angelo then considered whether he would be safer talking with his father or his mother. He imagined the phone call with his mother: a whirlwind of emotions, the dramatic flair of a soap opera star, and a penchant for panic that made him feel like he was standing on a ticking time bomb.

So, he quickly decided on his dad. William Taylor was a lot of things—grumpy at times, a master of dad jokes, and notorious for his ‘dad wisdom’ that often involved telling Angelo to “walk it off” whenever he had a minor scrape—but at the very least, he wasn’t prone to hysterics. In fact, the last time he’d gotten worked up was when Katerina had broken a nose, although thankfully not her own.

Sighing deeply, Angelo dialed his father’s number, his heart racing with anticipation. He half-expected his dad to answer with a grunt, like a bear just roused from hibernation, groggy and annoyed. Instead, after a long pause, a heavy sigh resonated through the line, sending a wave of worry washing over him.

“Hey, Dad. Is everything okay?” Angelo asked, trying to keep his voice steady, even as anxiety gnawed at him.

His father cleared his throat before replying, “Yes, Son. What do you need?”

Angelo swallowed nervously, tugging at the collar of his shirt with a finger. A sense of absurdity washed over him, making him feel like a cartoon character suddenly caught in an awkward moment. He could almost picture himself with bulging eyes and a comically exaggerated expression, unsure of how to navigate the conversation ahead.

Angelo cleared his throat, the sensation reminiscent of the time his father had caught him trying to smoke a cigar at age ten. The memory flooded back—a mix of shame and defiance, standing there with the cigar clumsily clenched between his fingers. He could almost hear his father’s incredulous voiceechoing in his mind. Now, he felt the weight of that same apprehension, about to confess another secret.

He accidentally blurted it out. “I’m going to be a father. It was one night, and I was drunk, and I didn’t check for protection, and I know I should have—”

Angelo’s father cut him off. “Pause.”

And Angelo did, a rush of emotions swirling within him. His father had always insisted on that whenever Angelo’s thoughts ran wild, a grounding technique that felt both comforting and daunting in this moment:“A businessman needs a clear mind, son. When your thoughts feels foggy, just pause.”

Angelo shut his eyes tight, willing himself to calm down. He needed clarity to navigate this conversation, to articulate the whirlwind of feelings crashing over him.

“Now, did you have unprotected sex with a stranger, Angelo?” his father demanded, his voice steady but laced with a sharp edge.

Angelo winced at the words. Though his father’s tone wasn’t cold, it felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over him, chilling him to the core.

“Yes,” he croaked out, his throat suddenly dry and tight.

“Have you checked who she is?” His father’s inquiry was direct, his voice piercing through the phone and straight into Angelo as if searching for any hint of denial.

“Allison Lockwood,” he replied, the name hanging in the air like a weighty confession.

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