Page 30 of Dina's Favorite Mistake

Dina snorted in a very unladylike way. “I gave up fairytales a long time ago.”

“You shouldn’t have.” Lola took the dirty mop from her hand and pulled the damp mop head from the handle. She tossed it into the hamper labeled for cleaning items but then took another peak at the hamper. “It’s full. I’ll start a load.”

“Make sure you do the pre-wash cycle. You know how Manuela is about the cleaning cloths and mop heads needing to be pre-rinsed, washed and sanitized.” Dina dumped the filthy mop water into the utility sink.

“Ew! Was that mud?” Lola looked suddenly embarrassed. “Wait. Was that from us? From the fields?”

“It’s fine.” Dina dismissively waved her hand.

“It’s not! You should have left it for me to clean up.”

“It’s not a big deal. I had time to take care of it.”

“On top of everything else you’re taking care of?” Lola asked skeptically. “Your daughter. The business. Our family.”

“I’m not exactly winning at any of those.”

“Don’t!” Lola touched her arm. “Don’t denigrate yourself like that! You’re a good mom. You’re a great businesswoman. You’re a wonderful daughter and sister and aunt.”

“I don’t think Camila would agree.” Dina hated to wallow in self-pity, but the pain of failing at keeping her daughter safe and happy was almost too much to bear.

“Camila is a teenager. You could give her puppies and kittens and unicorns and rainbows, and she’d still complain that you forgot the cupcakes and Taylor Swift and Olivia Rodrigo tickets.”

“Probably,” Dina agreed with a sad smile.

“Maybe the two of you should go on a little mother-daughter trip after things settle down,” Lola suggested. “Take her to a concert? Or somewhere fancy and grown-up?”

“It would have to be the fancy trip. She’s declared she’ll never go to another concert after Sirena retired the other night.”

Lola laughed. “God, was I that dramatic at that age?”

“At that age? You’restillthat dramatic.”

Lola started to argue but then shrugged. “Yeah. You’re right. Speaking of drama queens—where is our mother?”

“Probably outside with Beto and Jasper,” Dina answered uncertainly. “Beto is grilling for dinner.”

“Ugh!” Lola made a face. “I better go intervene before he burns everything.”

Not the least bit interested in listening to her younger siblings argue about who had the better grilling skills, Dina remained in the laundry room. She emptied one of the dryers that was still warm and quicky folded Jasper’s clothing.

Her heart thumped sadly at the realization that her chances of being a mother to a baby were coming to an end. Before she knew it, she would be thirty-five. Geriatric in pregnancy terms. Her menstrual cycles had never been regular or easy. Her womb seemed to be always irritated and angry.

“There you are.”

Startled by Steve’s voice, Dina spun around to find him looming in the doorway. His gaze dropped to the tiny pair of pants in her hands, and he asked, “Don’t you have people for that?”

She let loose a rough laugh and turned back to her task. “You sound like Camila.”

“I doubt she’d like that comparison very much.” Steve joined her at the counter where she was folding clothing and picked up a pair of matching socks. “Do you make the little sock balls or just stack them up somewhere?”

“Sock balls?” She smiled up at him, and her heart skipped a beat. He was so close their arms were brushing together, and he smelled so fresh and clean. His hair was still damp and darker than usual, and his blue eyes sparkled with mischief.

“I don’t know what else to call them.” He held up a tiny pair of socks that looked like a ball with one tucked inside the other.

“Yes. That’s the way.” She couldn’t handle another second of his handsome face. She dropped her gaze to the pile of clothing and got back to work. “You don’t have to help. Everyone is out on the back patio by the kitchen. Beto is grilling for dinner. I’m sure there’s beer and other cold drinks if you’d like to join them.”

“I’m not in any rush.” Steve methodically paired together tiny socks. “I prefer your company anyway.”

---