Page 27 of Taming Liberty

I take the plate and look down at what I thought was ordinary bread but what is actually a tostada.

“I thought you might like a taste of home.”

“Wow.”She wouldn’t seriously use this to kill me, would she?I glance back up at her and give her a brilliant smile, the best I can muster. “How thoughtful of you.”

She bites her bottom lip and drags a chair toward me before plopping down.

I stare down at the tostada and search as if I’ll be able to spot trace amounts of poison. Where the hell would she even get any? Do I have any poisonous plants around here? Rat poison? Something else?

I can’t think of anything.

“Well?” she asks, sitting on the edge of her seat. “Aren’t you going to try it?”

Am I?

I look up at her, and instead of studying the food, I study her. “Of course. I’m just wondering how you got the tomatoes and where you learned to crush them.”

Her smile falls slightly, like she’s genuinely disappointed at my lack of enthusiasm.

She’s obviously faking her own excitement. That isn’t up for debate. I don’t know if she’s forgotten how much I know about her or if she thinks I’m an idiot, but I spoke to the woman for a full year while she pretended to be someone she wasn’t, not just with me but with everyone else. I’m fully aware of her ability to put on a front, and I’m fully aware that the Lib I know would be pissed right now.

I wonder if she can tell I’m putting on a facade as much as she is.

“I got the tomatoes from the manor. Austin was manning the front gate, and he went to the garden for me. As for where I learned how to crush them, I spent a semester in Madrid when I was in college. The family I stayed with showed me how.”

“Ah.” I nod, looking down at the plate again. It looks good. Like home.

Fuck it.

I pick up the tostada and bring it to my mouth before hesitantly taking a bite, watching for her reaction as I do. I don’t spot any maliciousness, but I do see her studying me carefully, watching for my reaction with the same intensity as I watch for hers.

What is she after?

My tastebuds light up as I chew, and if I wasn’t so caught up in trying to figure out Lib, I would probably feel like I’d just been punched in the gut right now. It tastes authentic, like she has my abuela hidden in the kitchen and brought her out to make this for me.

I never eat this. My Spanish roots only follow me with a dimming accent and perhaps a few idioms, but I haven’t even had a conversation using the language in maybe a year. My home is modern with American taste, and the foods I eat bear no resemblance to my childhood. I don’t do business in Spain. I haven’t visited in over five years, and it was another ten before that.

There isn’t anything there for me, and as kind a gesture as this is, I don’t want the reminder.

“Do you like it?” she asks, perched on the edge of her seat.

I swallow the bite and have a much harder time pulling my lips into a smile. “It’s great. Thank you.”

“De nada.”

She gives me a wink then leans back, lifting her feet before balancing them on the low tabletop. I set the plate down and exchange it for the coffee, ignoring the urge to inspect it. I don’t know what Lib is up to, but killing me seems too asinine a plan, even for her.

“I’m happy you’re back,” she says, pulling her shades over her eyes. “I missed you.”

I take a sip of the coffee, cringing at the bitterness as I rest the mug on my thigh. “I missed you too. I’m sorry I was gone longer than I said I’d be. I hope you weren’t too bored…”

She shakes her head. “Not bored, just worried. I can entertain myself.”

“Well, I’m sorry I worried you.”

She gives me a tight smile and shrugs. “If I had a phone, you would’ve called. I understand that.”

Bullshit you do.

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