Page 2 of No One Wants That (Blitzen Bay)

“We can’t take this on the plane,” he says, putting the plates down. “It will spoil by the time we get to the airport.”

“Eat it now then, so you’ll have something good in your stomach.” She picks up one of the plates and brings it over to me. “Kit, it’s your favorite. Eat.”

“I already ate, Ana, but thank you,” I say, kissing her cheeks. “Do you mind if I have another minute alone with Mateo?”

She furrows her brow and looks from me to him. “Why? What’s going on? You both look angry.”

“Momma,” Mateo says, motioning for her to leave the room. When she doesn’t move, he starts to push her out. “Take the plates. We’ll be out in a second.”

She walks slowly into the hallway then turns back around to look at us. “Are you fighting again? It’s been this way since Kit got back from California.”

“Go,” he says, shooing her away with his hand. “And don’t listen at the door.”

She grunts as he closes the door. We wait until we hear her shoes clicking away on the tile floor.

“She’s right, you know. You’ve been different since you got back in December.”

“Yes, because seeing my entire family made me think about how much I missed them. Before Elle’s wedding—well, her kind-of wedding—I hadn’t seen my mom in almost a year, and I hadn’t seen Elle in two years.”

“I think Noelle’s ‘kind-of wedding’ is what’s made you start questioning everything,” he says, his voice getting a little edgy. “You’ve changed. Maybe you want to run out on me and find your own Nash?”

The last time I was in the U.S.—six months ago—was for Noelle’s wedding to a man who was very ill-suited for her. She came to her senses about fifteen minutes before the wedding was supposed to start. I distracted everyone while she fled. Nash was her getaway driver. They started dating about a month after that.

“First of all, you love Nash, so don’t try to act like he’s a bad thing. And second, I’m not looking to run from you to anyone. I’m trying to make myself happy. I don’t need a man to do that—you or anyone else.”

“That’s a little harsh,” he says, grabbing his already packed suitcase from the closet. “Let’s talk about it on the plane. Come on, our car’s here.”

I stop his roller bag with my foot. “You’re not coming with me.”

His eyes narrow again—this time into tiny slits. “So what are you saying? Are you breaking up with me?”

“No,” I say as I check for my passport one more time. “I don’t know. I need time alone to think about everything.”

“Well, are you coming back to Spain?” he says, throwing his hands in the air. “What am I supposed to tell my family?”

“I’m coming back. My stuff’s here. My job’s here. My boyfriend’s here,” I say slowly. “But bottom line, I’m moving back to the U.S. Maybe not forever, but for a couple years at least. While I’m gone, you need to decide if you’re coming with me.”

“I don’t need to think about it anymore. I’m not moving.”

“And I am moving,” I say, rolling my suitcase into the hallway. “Sooner than later. And I won’t do a long-distance relationship. It’s too hard to keep going.”

“So then we are breaking up?” he says, following me into the living room.

Ana’s in the kitchen wiping down our very clean counter. She’s trying desperately to act like she’s not eavesdropping.

“I’m not ready to break up—”

“Shh,” he says, nodding toward Ana. “Not in front of her.”

“Matty, you’re going to tell her every word of this conversation when I leave. She might as well hear it firsthand. I’m moving to the U.S. before the year’s out. I want you to come with me.”

Ana gasps as she spins around to look at me. I pull her into a hug and rest my head on top of hers.

“I’m sorry, Ana. I love you and your family, but I need to get back to my family for a while.”

When I let her go, she nods slightly and hands me a fork. I take a bite of one of the meatballs.

“Oh my God. Still the best, Ana. As many times as I’ve tried, I can’t make them taste like this.”

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