Page 10 of My Darling Mayhem

God, I was pathetic.

Sliding into my shoes, I opened the door before I could think any more of it, slid my hand under the pie, and stepped out.

“Shut the door for me, Cruz,” I said over my shoulder as we both began the walk down the drive. My nerves were shot, and even my breathing was all over the place as we got closer. His garage was shut, and no bike or any other vehicle was parked out front, so I had no way of knowing if he was home.

Cruz walked behind me, tipping his head back to take in the second-story and pitched roof of the house. “This is big.”

He’d never lived in a second-story home, much less even been inside one. My mother had bragged about how my brother had become wealthy. If I had any respect left for him, perhaps I’d take my son to see how the other half lived, but I’d rather we live humbly than expose ourselves to the wolves.

Without another thought, I stepped onto Archer’s stoop and pressed my finger to his doorbell.

Cruz smiled at me, and I gave him a silly look while we waited.

Nothing happened.

“Can I press it again?”

I nodded, slightly shifting so Cruz could access the button. There was no doorbell cam or any other security system set up that I could see, but I decided after Cruz pressed the bell for the second time and Archer didn’t appear, it was time to go.

I turned to leave when Cruz tugged on my hand. “Let’s leave it for him.”

I had no idea why my five-year-old wanted this man to have a housewarming gift, but it melted my heart the tiniest bit. Enough that I crouched down and gently set the pie on his step.

“Okay, bud. We’ll leave it.”

Cruz smiled and grabbed my hand, pulling me back toward our house.

“Now he’ll come over and thank us for it!”

There wasn’t even a note regarding who it was from, so he'd have no idea unless he had a camera set up somewhere.

But I just smiled and returned home to start dinner.

The interaction with Archer regarding my tattoo had snuck in and planted roots of suspicion and fear.

I was sorting through the various books in my son’s bedroom when my thoughts finally got the best of me, and I pulled my phone out to call my mother.

"Buena?"

Her confused tone made me smile. “Hola mamá. ¿Cómo estás?

She paused as the sounds of the clanking dishes began to fade from her speaker.

“¿Mi amor?” I could practically hear her begin to grin as she connected the dots on who’d called her. It was always like this with her.

“Yes, mamá. It’s me, Wren.”

“Is everything okay?”

The E.B. White book fell to my son’s bed as I let it go and stood. “We’re okay, everything is fine. I just wanted to call and ask you a question.”

Her silence had me rubbing at my temple as I tried to take a step back.

“How are you…and Leo?”

“Fina pero gorda.” She sounded exasperated as she spoke, and her smile made me laugh in a way that made me remember happier times—her smile, my brother’s, Leo’s.

“Mom, Leo is not fat. The last time he was here, he was rail thin.”

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