Page 112 of Burn for You

“Yeah, well, you wouldn’t know much about me these days, would you?”

She flinches, every word hitting her like a bullet. Guilt pulls red heat up my neck. “Marisol…”

“No,” she holds her hand up, “I deserved that.”

May’s eyes flick between us, as if she’s unsure where to go next. I don’t know either. I’m just happy she’s here with me.

Marisol stayed at my house last night, but I couldn’t face her, so I stayed here. In the comfort and sanctuary of May and her little cottage.

After spending more time around here, I can understand why May hated it when she came to stay at my house. It feels empty and cold compared to this cottage, where warmth bursts at the seams. Life is molded into every surface, with dinks in the wall and scuffs over the floorboards. It feels like the place where life should be lived slowly, warmly, but to the fullest.

“What are you making?” Marisol’s eyes gesture to the pot.

“I’m, uh…trying to salvage astew.”

May rolls her eyes. “You don’t have to say stew like that.”

I just smirk and focus back on the pot in front of me, it’s the one thing I can control about this situation.

“It’s a family recipe,” she says to Marisol. “But Rafael here doesn’t trust me to not serve you up poison.”

“To be fair, you did let it boil over,” I chime in.

May scoffs. “Okay, I was alittledistracted.”

“Little? That’s not exactly the word I would choose.”

“Uh,” Marisol murmurs. “You do realize I’m right here.” For a second, I almost forgot she was.

“Oh my god! No! Sorry, I don’t really have a filter sometimes,” May scrambles to explain herself.More like all the time.

“I don’t have an excuse,” I add.

Marisol just laughs. “I didn’t know you guys were a couple when I saw you in Sorrento.”

I see May shake her head in the reflection of the window. “Oh, we weren’t. I hated his guts.”

“No, you didn’t.” I catch her scowling at me in the reflection. I meet her gaze and wink at her, and she immediately looks away.

Marisol giggles again. “My brother always had the ability to annoy someone into liking him. I see he hasn’t lost that ability.”

I wish my stomach would stop doing that dipping thing.

“Definitely not,” May says. “But it seems to work out in his favor.”

“Apparently,” Marisol says, taking a glance around the space, her eyes lingering on May a little longer than necessary.

After another five minutes of May filling the awkward silence between my sister and me, I serve up the dinner, and we all move to sit on the plush couches.

“If you spill this on my furniture…” May glares at me as I sit down.

I wave her off. “Yeah, yeah, eat your stew.”

She sits down on the couch with Marisol, and I’m left with the lone chair. It feels a bit symbolic.

“So, how do you like living in the city?” May asks.

Marisol hesitates. “Oh, uhm…I like it, lots to see.”

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