Page 47 of The Problem with Dating

She sat straighter, wiping her tears. “Insanely charismatic and beautiful?”

I chuckled. “Loud, weird, and bossy. Nosy, too, and ridiculously invested in other people’s lives.” I took a breath. “And insanely charismatic and beautiful.”

“See?” she whispered, leaning in toward me. “A monster could never say anything so sweet.”

The comfort she was giving felt too heavy for me to take in. I wasn’t certain how to handle it, so I stood. “I should get back to work.”

“Yes, okay. And I’ll stop yelling at you until later,” she joked as she stood.

Then she hugged me, and I allowed it. I almost forgot what hugs felt like until she and Noah reminded me.

When she pulled away, she patted my cheek. “Sweet boy.”

It was as if she constantly told me I was good for her words to imprint on my self-consciousness. Teresa used to do the same things. My parents weren’t the best. My mother dipped out early on when we lived in Chicago, and my father dropped me off at Teresa’s doorstep in Madrid when I was ten so he could pursue his career. No one that young should’ve been used to people leaving so often. Teresa made sure to be a person who stayed.

I rubbed the back of my neck. “What should I do about Yara?”

“Apologize. She’ll accept it.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“She will.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because she’s Yara. Holding grudges isn’t something she tends to do. Now, I have to get going. I have work to do before I come in for more work.”

“Tatiana?”

“Yes?”

“How did you learn my full name?” I questioned.

“I told you. I’m this town’s mother. And mothers always find out everything they need to know.”

“Right. Of course.”

“Do you know what Yara likes, Alex?”

“What’s that?”

“Cookies. Chocolate chip cookies.”

* * *

Right after Tatiana left,I got to work on my apology. I’d spent the next few days working out how to apologize to Yara for my cruelty over the past weeks. I was in way over my head with my emotions and took it out on one of the only people in town who were kind to me.

What bothered me the most was that my mind and body didn’t know how to act when I was around her. I went through a whirlwind of contradictory emotions when she was near me. I was stuck between loathing and wanting to kiss her until the sun faded. I hated the feeling of conflicting thoughts. It made my head hurt. I couldn’t have my head hurting when my heart was already jumbled.

Still.

Not her fault.

Friday evening was busy at Isla Iberia, and I was already figuring out how to go to Yara’s apartment to apologize after I locked up for the night. Or, well, I’d wait until morning to apologize, seeing as how I didn’t know her apartment number. Though I could’ve knocked on every door until I found it and—

“Chef? What’s this? Should it be tossed?” Sammy said, holding up a tray with desserts on it. “Is this on the menu?”

“What? No. Don’t toss it. Put it on a plate and in my office.”

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