Page 110 of Outspoken

I nod. Though her words are so loving and sweet, they’re not the reason I want to sob.

Miguel wants kids.And he’s wanted them for a really long time.

I wipe my cheeks with the tissue, trying to compose myself enough to politely leave. I need to go before Miguel gets home. I can’t confess my love knowing that he wants something I can’t offer. I know Marta will tell him I was here, but I’ll think of how to explain that later.

For now, I need to leave and deal with this ache in my heart.

As I’m cleaning my cheeks, a familiar, unexpected face appears in the living room.

“Oh, Angel,” Marta says. “Have you met Miguel’s love, Amber?”

I stare at him, completely confused. Although, he did mention he was living with different family members. So he must be…

Angel stifles a laugh. “His love? Yeah, we’ve met.”

He’s in a gray hoodie even though it’s pretty hot in here, and his baggy jeans look like they’re about to fall down his legs. His brown hair is no longer shoulder-length but trimmed and shorter. He still appears weary and stressed beyond his years, but he’s also lighter somehow.

He nods at me. “Why are you here, old lady?”

Marta gasps and then tsks at him. “Do not say that to her. Some day you’ll be old and see what that means. Amber is so young and beautiful. Don’t disrespect. You apologize.”

He actually looks regretful and lowers his chin. “Sorry.” Then he glances at the coffee table and Marta’s half-eaten cheesecake. He picks it up. “You’re not supposed to eat so much. You’ll get sick.”

She tsks again. “Everyone thinks I get sick from everything. I’m fine. But you can put it away. Gracias, mijo.”

“De nada,” he responds under his breath, glancing around for anything else to clean up. He grabs an empty cup and then leaves.

I’m shocked. His attitude toward his family at Rico’s party was sour and irritated. He’s softer around Miguel’s mom.

“He’s a good boy,” Marta says, like she’s reading my thoughts. “I told Miguel that. He sees it now.”

“Does Angel live here, too?”

Marta nods.

I drop my tissue in a small waste basket under the coffee table and then fold the wrapper over the remaining chocolate bar on my lap. I know so little about Miguel, and he’s dealing with so much. I love him more than I did just an hour ago, but we can’t get involved if we want separate things. And I’m only adding stress to what he’s already juggling.

I stare at my hands, feeling like I’m sinking into the couch from the heaviness inside me. I figured Miguel and I had more time. I thought we’d take it slow. Go on dates. Get to know each other in a real relationship.

But that’s gone now, isn’t it?

Doesn’t matter if I love him—the first man I’ve ever loved. Love doesn’t fix two people who don’t fit together. He deserves to have a beautiful wife and a family. I deserve the life I’m trying to build, too. And it’s not fair for either of us to sacrifice our needs. That’s how couples end up hating each other.

I hadreallyhoped I belonged with Miguel.

Life is so unkind.

I stand with a polite smile, abandoning the candy bar on the coffee table. “Thank you so much for the chocolate and for welcoming me,” I say to Marta. “I really should go. I can talk to Miguel later.”

“You sure, mija?” she asks, taking my hand and squeezing.

“Bailing, huh?” comes Angel’s gruff voice from the other side of the room.

When I look at him, he looks away. He’s hunched, hands in his hoodie pockets.

“How have you been?” I ask.

He shrugs. “What’s it matter? You’re leaving.” He’s still not looking at me.

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