Page 60 of Forget Me

I’d never wanted any of that. Casual flirtations and casual hookups had been enough for me.

Until Mimi.

She frowned. “You are a wonderful man, Mateo. Everyone likes you. But—”

“But?” I braced myself.

“But you don’t know your own worth. You let people take advantage of you. My son, for instance.”

“Miguelito is family. He watches out for me. He’d never take advantage of me.” Even as I said it, I knew it wasn’t true. Lito cared about me, sure. But to him, I was second-string. His mother and Ben, even his friend Jackson, were at the top level of his affections. They could do no wrong, and he’d move heaven and earth to protect them. Me? Not so much. Still, wasn’t it a reflection on me that I let him walk all over me? “He pays me well. And he lets me live in his guesthouse.”

Pity softened Rosa’s stare. “Niño. You’re worth so much more than that. Don’t let anyone, not Miriam, and not my son, convince you otherwise. You’re so much like your father. My brother had a big heart. He gave it away too easily.”

“You’re talking about my mother, you know.” My tone was light, but heat flashed across my cheeks.

She crossed herself. “I don’t want to speak ill of the dead—God rest her soul—but she didn’t deserve either of you.”

Maybe we didn’t deserve her. In my memory, she was an angel with long, blond hair, twinkling blue eyes, and bubbly laughter. How could someone like that not deserve me?

“Think about it. And think about whether Miriam is worth risking your big, caring heart. Hear me?”

“Sí, señora.”

She sipped her hot chocolate, then stared into its brown depths. “How long are you staying?”

“My shift ends at six tomorrow morning.”

“No. I mean in the U.S. When are you going home?”

I shrugged. “Hadn’t thought about it. I’m fine working for Lito.”

“You know I don’t need protecting.”

“You do. Miguelito said Mick—”

“I lived with that man for almost twenty years. You don’t think I can protect myself from him?”

“Well, I…” I scratched the back of my neck. One time she and Miguelito had come to the island for a visit when I was a teenager, he had a black eye, and I could’ve sworn my tía had a bruise on her jaw. She’d worn long sleeves, even in the tropical heat. And now Miguelito had money. Sometimes money caused as many problems as it solved.

“You had a life on the island,” she said. “Friends. What do you have here?”

Mimi. I had Mimi here. But did I really have her?

“I have you, tía. And my primo. And maybe, after our date tomorrow, I’ll have Mimi, too.”

All I wanted out of life was family. Love.

And that day, it felt close enough to touch.

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