Page 14 of Wasted On Us

If I’m not mistaken, I could swear he blushes a little at this. It looks nice on him. “I like to think I’m one of a kind.”

“Don’t you all,” I tease. He reaches into his wallet, carefully selecting a business card and passing it to me.

“Here, take my office info. Just in case something happens tomorrow, and you can’t come down there.”

He hands me his office information, our fingers brushing briefly. With a warm smile that sends shivers down my spine, Mateo leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead—a promise, a connection that goes beyond words. And then, with a lingering look, he steps out of my apartment, leaving me with a heart that beats a little faster, a world that feels a little brighter.

Until it doesn’t.

Mateo García, Sales Manager.

The card slips from my trembling fingers, dropping onto the polished floor like the world dropping from under my feet. It’s a hollow, echoing thud in the silence that has consumed the room, the reality sinking in and slamming into me with the weight of a thousand heartbreaks. MateoGarcía. The name tattoos itself on my soul, searing in a way that feels like an irrevocable burn.

I can still taste him on my lips, still feel his touch on my skin, and it’s as if he’s just reached in and torn my heart out with his bare hands. The sweet echo of pleasure we shared mere moments ago, the laughter, the connection... it all curdles in my veins, turning bitter. A cruel joke played by the universe, a cosmic trickery. The one man who touched my soul, the one man who made me feel beautiful, strong, wanted... is the one man I can never see again.

The world has never felt so cold.

The feud between my father and Mateo’s is a twisted, gnarled mess. A clash of titans dating back to their college days. One ill-fated car purchase was the catalyst—an olive branch turned thorny whip. The car broke down, repair costs skyrocketed, and accusations of sabotage echoed. My dad, with a heart drowning in betrayal, vowed never to breathe the same air as a García again.

I know, deep down, that the origin of this rift sounds absurd, almost laughable. A broken car, of all things, driving a wedge between two families for generations. I don’t know all the details, and maybe there’s more to the story that I’m not privy to. But my father’s anger is a force of nature, unyielding and fierce. As ridiculous as it may be, it’s become a non-negotiable part of our family’s identity, a line we simply do not cross.

No matter how inane I think it, my dad is the first man I ever loved. Theonlyman I’ve ever loved. And his thoughts and feelings deserve respect. No matter how you slice it, it’s a cruel irony that Salvador’s son, this generous, kind-hearted man, becomes my enemy by association. It’s a jigsaw puzzle with pieces that just don’t fit.

My life has been a series of losses—Italy, boyfriend, job, apartment, car, and the freedom each represented. Now, I stand on the brink of losing the single glimmer of light I found amid my unraveling. Just a few hours with Mateo, yet the thought of severing this unforeseen connection feels like a gut punch.

As I grapple with what it all means, guilt snakes around my heart. Deceit isn’t my forte. But Dad doesn’t need to know. Not yet. Maybe not ever. I just need to stay afloat until my car is fixed, until I can make a clean break, retreat from Mateo’s gravitational pull, and keep my legs locked tightly together. I force myself to believe it’s possible, to forget the way my heart quivers at the mere thought of him.

If I’ve just met him, why does the thought of losing him feel like losing a part of myself?

Chapter Six

Mateo

I spend the morning trying not to think about her. I use all of the big guns, too. I think about how disappointed my father was with me about Lucy and the frustration in his eyes. I think about the promise I made to myself about laying off women for a while. I even think about all of my exes and the terrible mistakes I’ve made with them over the years. A montage of all of the late-night fights, unfollowing on social media, and bouquets thrown in trash cans. I have a history of breaking things off before they even really begin, and I don’t want to do the same thing to another girl just because she’s so hypnotic that I keep thinking of her instead of my cornflakes. Which are now so soggy as to be inedible.

Admitting defeat, I dump the entire bowl into the sink and wash it down the garbage disposal, settling for grabbing a protein bar instead and heading out to my car. The drive to work is filled with thoughts about her, too.

The way she smells.

The way her silky skin feels underneath the weight of my hand.

The way she tastes when she comes apart.

I almost miss the turn for the dealership, turning so late that two of my wheels bump over the curb. I don’t even realize until my hand is on the front door of the building that I’ve forgotten to push the automatic start, so I’ve left the engine running.

God, I’ve lost the plot.

None of this prepares me for the reality of seeing Eden again, right there at the desk in the showroom. She looks even more heart-stopping in the daytime, the sunlight catching on her hair and radiating glossy black. I take a breath as my crotch roars to life and catalog my stored repertoire of openers, finally selecting the best combination of joke and compliment I can think of.

And then she reaches down to get something from her purse, giving me a clear view over her shoulder right into the eyes of the person at the desk.

Lucy.

I think about running, about turning around and pretending I left something behind in the car. But the grinch-like smile that Lucy’s face contorts into tells me that I’ve already been spotted, and there’s nothing I can do but drift toward the desk with my tail between my legs.

“I’ve got this,” I offer, trying my best to sound casual and confident. I don’t want Eden to get scared away by this disaster so early in our connection. “Thanks, Lucy. I know you’re always so busy and have a lot on your plate.”

Lucy takes a quick look from Eden to me, and then back again, the grin never leaving her face. She’s like a bulldog with a bone sometimes. Obviously, she can sense that there is something between Eden and me, and she’s determined to do anything she can to spoil that this morning. I want nothing more than to snap at her just the way she’s trying to get me to. If Eden wasn’t here, I doubt I could find it in me to be this civil.

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