Page 54 of Wasted On Us

And I’ll never get to find out about this new dream she’s so excited about that she’s considering leasing commercial space to bring it to life.

I wait in one of the chairs in the lobby, ten minutes early for our scheduled meeting time, knowing full well that she will be right on time. It lets me watch her speedwalk up to the building, checking her phone and smoothing her hair before opening the door. The moment she sees me, she stops in her tracks, looking around the lobby to see if anyone else is there. When she realizes that I’m the only one, she sighs and tentatively walks toward me.

“Mateo,” she starts with a nervous smile, tucking an unruly tendril behind her ear. “What are you doing here?”

She’s flustered, sure. My being here has certainly thrown a wrench into her plans. But beneath her initial nervousness, there’s something else. She’s dressed professionally, carrying a thick binder full of paperwork. And there’s a steely determination in her eyes. Gone is the girl who was reduced to tears by a fender bender. This Eden is someone new. And I have to say, it suits her.

I offer the coffee, and she stares at it in suspicion before relenting and taking it in her hand. She takes a sip and involuntarily closes her eyes in appreciation. At least I got her coffee order right.

“I own the building,” I admit with no small amount of pride in my voice. Eden raises her eyebrows in surprise. “Want to see the space?”

“Youownthis entire building?” She shuffles back and forth on her feet, glancing over her shoulder at the lobby entrance. “I’m not sure this is a good idea. Maybe I should go.”

“It’s an office and a short-term lease,” I remind her, standing up from the chair with a stretch. “You’re totally safe. I’m not here to violate your boundaries. I can keep it purely professional if you can.”

Eden stares at me for a moment, considering her options. As much as she wants to pretend to be annoyed by this turn of events, I can tell that she’s happy to see me. At least, for now.

“I suppose,” she sighs, gesturing with her coffee for me to lead the way. It’s not the most enthusiastic response, but it’s a start. I’ve got my foot in the door. Now I just have to convince her that I’m not a guaranteed disaster.

I have her follow me to the elevator and to the second floor, trying to keep as much polite distance between us as possible the whole time even though my body’s on high alert and my fingers are tingling with the need to touch her. I know that she’s going to love the space as soon as she sees it. It’s right on the south side of the building, so it gets a ton of natural light. And the tenants who were here when I bought the place left a huge collection of plants behind. I’ve been letting one of my other tenants pay reduced rent to take care of the plants for me, and they look incredible. When I open the door, I watch as she tries not to smile and fails, biting her lip to keep from looking too excited. I have to fight the urge to kiss her right then and there, afraid that she would throw her coffee in my face.

“Does it come furnished?” The question itself feels perfunctory. She’s going to take the space. I can see it in her eyes. She’s just trying to make conversation in the meantime.

“Yes. I bought this entire office complex at auction a few years back and everything that it still had, came with it. I was pretty lucky.” I lean against the door, watching her inspect the furnishings and walk through the length of the space.

“Wow,” she says, barely containing her surprise. “I had no idea you and your dad…”

I have to stop her right there. I’m so sick of being lumped in with my father, existing simply as the “son” in García and Son.

“No, me. Just me,” I cut through the air with my hand horizontally. I help my father because I believe it’s important to do so. But I’m not owned by him. “I work for my dad, but mostly because it’s a family business. I wanted some things that were my very own too. I have this building, and I’m looking at another on the other side of town, an apartment complex.”

Outside of my customer who shared the original lead with me, nobody knows about this. Not even Abuelita. It feels good to tell someone and to feel proud of my own achievements. Even if I gave up my position at García and Son, I would still be able to earn a nice living and stand on my own two feet.

“Huh.” She stops to sit at the large desk across from one of the windows, leaning back in the chair and spinning slightly from side to side. “If this pans out, you could end up being my landlord. How would that work?”

“I’d rather end up your husband,” I tease.

Eden stops spinning, sitting ramrod straight in the chair. “Don’t talk like that. You know a relationship is impossible.”

Impossible, huh? Just the word ignites a defiance in me. It summons a vision of her, radiant and ethereal, walking down an aisle to me. To our forever. In that fleeting image, she’s a goddess clad in white, her gown clinging to her like a second skin. The dream is vivid, potent. And damn, it’s a sight that could make any man reconsider the term ‘impossible.’

I slump my shoulders in surrender, letting her have this one. I’ll change the subject for now.

“So.” I walk toward the window, taking a look at the sidewalk below. “If you need office space, that means you’re launching a business. Tell me about it.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” She slides the binder closer to her, guarding it defensively. I turn and look at her, my head tilted in confusion.

“As your potential landlord, don’t you think I deserve to know what’s going down inside my building? I mean, what if you’re up to something illegal?”

“Really, Mateo?” She laughs at herself, running a hand through her hair. “So, here’s what I’m thinking. I want to take people to Italy, show them the place, and give them a true experience even beyond the touristy stuff. I want people to fall in love with the ‘real’ Italy just like I did. And I want to see it through their eyes as if I’m seeing it for the first time.”

“The Italy you know?” There’s something very vulnerable about her now, softer than the determination she had when she entered the building. I know how hard it is to tell people about your dreams. “So, kind of like a boutique, specialty travel agency?”

“Exactly.” She beams at me, seeming to forget her tension from earlier.

“Where do I sign up?” I ask, and it must be the wrong question, all of that tension flooding right back into her face.

She looks away from me, picking at the plastic binder cover with her nails. “I don’t know…”

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