Page 57 of The Last Sunrise

I smile for them. “I’m so glad, even though the wholetemporary, accepting the relationship may end in a few weeksthing still freaks me out a bit, but different strokes for different folks.” I shrug.

Julián lets out a laugh. “What an American expression.”

“Isn’t that what we agreed on too? Being temporary?” I remind him and myself.

“Don’t remind me.” He pulls me close and leans in to kiss me, but just before his lips touch mine, his eyes widen at something behind me, and his body stiffens.

I jerk my head around to see what he’s focused on, and a chill runs over me as I recognize that the man in the crisp suit striding toward us is Julián’s father, Mateo. His thick, dark curls are pulled back into a sleek look, banded just above his neck. A far cry from the cutoff shirts, board shorts, and flip-flops I’ve seen him in on the docks or on his boat. He nods to his son and passes us, heading straight for the center of the room. Beelining to my mother. She blinks rapidly, losing her composure for a moment. It’s refreshing to see on the one hand, but I’m worried for her on the other.

There’s a nervous twitch in my mother’s mouth I’ve never seen before as Mateo approaches her. She straightens her back and lengthens her neck. She refuses to appear shaken in front of everyone. At least she’s consistent. The air in my lungs disappears and Julián squeezes my hand to comfort me.

“Should we stop them?” I whisper through the mild panic bubbling at the base of my neck. As angry as I am with her, Idon’t want to see her humiliated in front of a crowd, especially by a man she once loved.

Julián’s hand moves to rest on my lower back. He shakes his head. He gently caresses me, attempting to reassure me, and even in this intense situation, his touch gives me goose bumps.

“This is their business, not ours,” he reminds me.

“It doesn’t feel as simple as that,” I tell him, looking for even a touch of worry in his eyes, but there is none.

After a few seconds he adds, “Nothing is simple, Ry. But they cannot avoid each other forever. Do you want to go outside so you don’t have to see whatever is about to happen?”

I contemplate that. Running away with him into the night sounds like the easier and certainly less-stressful choice, but staying here and seeing the two of them together firsthand is something I’ve been curious about since I found out about their history. And Julián’s right, this isn’t our problem to solve.

“I guess my invitation got lost in the mail, Iz?” Mateo steps closer, directly in front of my mom, and her eyes continue to blink rapidly, as if a ghost has just appeared.

I’m sure, and hopeful, that no one except me notices; that despite her cool expression, she is absolutely flailing inside.

“What are you…” She trails off, clearly trying to compose her thoughts and hide her surprise in front of the hundreds of eyes in the room. She takes a few steps away from the group of investors she’s entertaining, trying to divert Mateo from their earshot.

“Mateo, to what do I owe the pleasure?” She adjusts her tone. Performative, professional, sickening.

I know that tone all too well; I’ve heard it on hundreds of her work calls throughout my life, and now she’s using it onsomeone she once loved. The more I learn about my mom, the more confused I am. On the one hand, I feel for her, the life she could have had; and on the other, I blame her for so many wrongs and so much damage.

As they size each other up, parts of the crowd begin to notice, little by little. Julián and I move closer too.

“The pleasure? The nerve you must have to come back here and try to swallow up my business, my workers’ lives, my son’s future? The only one who finds pleasure in hurting people is you.”

His words sting me by proxy, and it takes all my self-control not to defend my mom, even though Mateo is right and is completely justified to feel that way. It’s a stark difference to how forgiving of her he was with me, but maybe he finally snapped now that reality must be setting in.

“This is a celebration of a new Arts Center for the island, a charity event… if you hadn’t noticed.” My mom sweeps one arm through the air in front of her and her gifted vintage Rolex sparkles under the lights. It’s nauseating.

“Oh, I noticed. The whole island noticed,” he sneers, pain in his eyes and splashed clearly across his face. He’s not someone who hides his pain or emotions, not like her. She’s managed to guide him to the door, away from most of the ears. I nod to Amara at the DJ booth, and she understands what I mean. The volume of the music rises.

“I tried my best, Mr. Garcia,” my mom coos, and I can tell by the gleam in her eye that she chose his title very carefully, very callously. “We’re paying you handsomely, more than the company is even worth, and your workers, andyou, agreed to sign the contracts. We both know the company can’t withstandthe demand of resorts here, and if we didn’t bail you out, the next buyer would completely take advantage of—”

“Bail me out? Is that what you think you did?” Mateo’s voice is full of disbelief.

My mom nods, and the thick necklace moves in unison with her heavy sigh.

“Think of the tourism this will bring to the area. More tourism, more money.” My mom’s voice is beginning to break, and I’ve never seen her run out of steam so quickly in my entire life.

“We have the oldest fishing company on the island, and we would have done just fine if you didn’t keep bringing tourists here and destroying our land and resources. You know, like you used to complain about before you turned into this.” He waves his hand from her head to her toes.

“This isn’t personal.” She swallows. “It’s business, and it was going to happen whether I was involved or not. I tried to make the best of it, which is why we’re here, to give back to the community with the Arts Center, and that’s only the beginning. Think of the jobs the resort will bring.”

“Everything between us is personal, Miss Pera.” Mateo takes a step back from her and leans against a tablecloth-covered high table behind him as if my mom’s callous treatment has cut him straight to the bone.

“Don’t give me that shit about helping the community. What we need is programs for the kids, jobs for their parents, yes, but not another resort polluting our ocean and ruining the land. If you cared about your homeland, you would be building the Arts Center without forcing us out of our land. This is where you’re from! Aquesta és la teva gent!” Mateo’s voice rises with every word.

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