Page 28 of When Love Changes Everything

"Well. Well," Dad stammers, clearly struggling to contain his displeasure. "You never asked me for my blessing!"

"You were there," Mateo says calmly. "You were there when I got down on one knee and proposed. That would’ve been the perfect time to voice your objections, but you didn’t. I think the 'Speak now or forever hold your peace' part applies here as much as it does at the altar. You can’t protest now, Stan. It’s too late."

Dad's eyes snap to me, firing a furious glare. He takes a slow sip of his cocktail, as though debating whether to unleash a full-blown meltdown or seethe in quiet frustration. But with Mateo by my side, he chooses silence.

"We’d love to stay and chat," Mateo says, his voice smooth. "But I’m taking my beautiful fiancée to the farmer’s market." The look he gives Dad is edged with warning 'Don't you dare,' is the message and Dad receives it loud and clear. "We’d love for you to join us, but I’m sure you have more important things to do than spend the day with us lovebirds."

Dad gives us a dismissive wave, his hand flicking through the air as if we’re a couple of pesky flies—annoying and inconvenient—silently urging us to leave. Mateo doesn't miss a beat. He pulls a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and places it on the table, his voice steady as he looks at Dad. "See you later, Stan."

We both rise, and a rush of relief mingled with guilt settles inside me as we turn to walk out—reminders of how much I still love my father, even if that love isn’t returned. When we reach thedoor, Mateo pulls me back gently, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glances toward the restaurant’s interior.

Through the glass, we watch as Dad reaches for the hundred-dollar bill, his movements slow and deliberate. He tucks it into his wallet, then replaces it with a couple of twenties from his own funds—a small but telling gesture, one that reveals more about my father’s true character than any words ever could.

"How did you know?" I ask Mateo, my voice tinged with second-hand embarrassment over my father’s behavior.

"It's greed,hermosa," Mateo says, his voice laced with quiet frustration. "And your father wears it like a badge of honor."

I glance away, feeling the weight of shame on my father's behalf. Mateo doesn’t let me hide. He gently pulls my gaze back with his thumb on my chin, his eyes locking with mine.

"Your father’s actions have nothing to do with you," he murmurs, his words a soft balm against the sting I feel. "We all have to account for our own behaviors. What he does... that’s squarely on him."

***

The farmer’s market is alive with energy. Vendors are setting out their fresh produce, and the air is filled with the chatter of people strolling by with baskets and bags, while children laugh and racearound, reveling in the crisp morning air. Mateo’s hand, firmly interlaced with mine, feels so right, grounding me in this perfect moment.

We decide to buy everything we need for a simple lunch at home—fresh bread, ripe tomatoes, rich cheeses, and cold cuts from the corner deli. As we stroll along the river's edge, the scent of the water mingles with the sweet, earthy fragrance of homemade candles being handed out by vendors.

I spot a candle, its scent a calming blend of vanilla and lavender. Lifting it, I hold it toward Mateo. "This one smells like my condo," I say, my voice soft and almost reverent, the memory of my home filling me with nostalgia. "Here, smell it."

Mateo takes a deep breath, his eyes closing for a moment as he inhales the scent, then leans in close, nuzzling my neck with a tender, almost possessive affection. "I much prefer your scent,hermosa," he murmurs, his voice a low whisper against my skin. He smiles—the kind of smile that’s just for me, the one that tells me without words that his heart belongs to me and no one else.

He buys the candle, gently securing the lid and slipping it into our bag. "You can put it in your room tonight," he says. "It'll make you feel like you're at home."

I glance at him, curiosity in my voice. "What do you do to feel like you're at home? You must miss Mérida."

He pauses, his gaze turning tender as it meets mine. "Since I've been here with you," he whispers, "I haven't thought of Mérida once. You are my home,hermosa."

He tucks a wayward strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers tracing a path on my skin. Then he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my lips.

"Kiss me again," I whisper.

"Yes, ma'am," he responds, his eyes dark with promise.

But before he can close the distance, a little voice calls out, "Hola, Mateo!"

"Davey!" Mateo exclaims, his face lighting up. "Hola, amigo. How are you?"

I glance up to see Katherine and Adam heading our way, hand in hand. Adam is pushing a stroller, their youngest cooing contentedly, while Jon and Tori follow closely behind. The sight of them fills me with warmth.

"Well, hello!" I exclaim, enveloping them in warm hugs.

I turn to address Mateo, but he and Davey are engrossed in conversation, their words flowing effortlessly in Spanish.

"Those two are like two peas in a pod," Katherine remarks, taking my hand to admire my ring. "It's beautiful!"

"Let me see," Adam chimes in, peeking over Katherine’s shoulder to inspect it. His eyes widen. "That’s not just any ring," he declares. "That’s a Bel Air, baby!"

Katherine turns to him with a raised eyebrow. "And how, exactly, do you know that, babe?"

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