Page 52 of Dead Set on You
“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,” I mutter as I march up the stairs to where Rafael waits.
“Not sure you’re getting the words to the song right, E,” he says.
I swat at his head with a low growl. Rafael ducks, grinning his stupid grin, as I push past him into the house—
And stumble to a halt.
It’s worse than I imagined.
Organized chaos surrounds me. Patterns and colors clash on almost every surface. Beautiful pottery fills the shelves. Woven rugs, decorated in intricate patterns, cover the ancient wood floors. Pictures line most of the walls, smiling faces staring back. Weddings. Birthdays. Visits to other countries. Pieces of moments lived everywhere.
I feel Rafael behind me. “Something out of an Evie Pope nightmare, right?” He chuckles, but beneath the light tone, I detect something else. He’s expecting me to criticize the clash of colors and the clutter.
I won’t give him the satisfaction. Also, I don’t like to lie.
This is ahome, and there isn’t anything nightmarish about it.
“Not—”
“Raffi!” a woman’s voice calls right as a smiling face pops into the hallway. The woman, somewhere in her mid-fifties, stares right at me.Through me,I remind myself. “You’re here,” she says.
Her chocolate-colored hair bobs as she walks straight for Rafael with outstretched arms. He leans into her, wraps her in his arms.
“My baby,” she mutters, squeezing him around the waist. “You’re late. Are all the clocks I’ve gotten you broken? Or have you been avoiding us?”
Mamma Mia—it’s Rafael’smother. I’ve only ever seen a photo—a brief glimpse—because even when we were friends, talking about moms was never my comfort zone. I stare, trying to discern the similarities.
She’s lithe and elegant. Seems sweet and decent.
I don’t see it.
“I wouldn’t dare avoid you,” Rafael mumbles into her hair. “Are you trying to suffocate me?”
She pulls away, smiling widely—and oh, now I see it. A single dimple creases her cheek. “I wouldn’t be so obvious if I was,” she says with a wink. I can’t help smiling as she hooks her arm through his and starts to drag him away.
Rafael looks over his shoulder and jerks his head for me to follow.
Of course I don’t.
I retreat a step.
This was a big mistake. I shouldn’t have come inside. Should have known better than to think Rafael intended anything but to unsettle me. What I should have done is stick to the checklist and advocateprofessionalhelp.
What can his grandmother possibly do?
Kill me with kindness?
Feet stomp on the staircase to my right, startling me. The girl with the pigtails and unicorn dress storms down the stairs, construction paper and crayons in hand, and she zooms past me, humming a song that’s vaguely familiar. Something about standing at the edge of the ocean.Frozen?Tangled?Moana!
Rafael hummed it a week straight, taunting me as he “brainstormed” across from me. I parried with ABBA, humming “The Winner Takes It All” until the songs induced nausea … and we were called into Dana’s office to discuss appropriate work etiquette. Another level unlocked in Evie vs. Rafael.
Cringing at the memory, I turn to leave, determined to start walking home. I’m almost out the door … but a photo along the wall catches my eye.
Although I shouldn’t, I give in to the temptation and inch toward it, curious for another little peek into Rafael’s life.
When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. When life throws you behind enemy lines, you gather intel, and if thatmeans naked-baby photos, lucky you. Althoughluckywasn’t how I was feeling when I saw his naked tush.Liar.
Fanning my face, I lean and squint at the photo, needing to see a baby in diapers to get rid of the image of a man in bedsheets. I focus on the photo of a kid. Rafael’s toothless smile is discernible in a beach photo. In another, he’s surrounded by three girls, and they’re standing in front of a church. Here he’s waving from a cherry-red Chevy Camaro … and here he’s standing beside a handsome man dressed in a striped suit and sporting a thick mustache. It’s like I’m looking at an older version of Rafael, and he doesn’t wither up into a raisin like I imagined. Wishful thinking on my part.
