Two weeks later
EVA
Papi is seated at a table in the far corner of the hotel restaurant. His flight to Spain is later this afternoon. Miguel has already gone back without incident, and as for Bianca, she is out of my life.
I’ve moved in with Jared, and it was difficult to leave him sleeping in our bed to have this conversation with my father. But it’s needed. I’m anxious to get back to Jared.
“Eva, this has gone on long enough,” Papi says now that I’m at the table. “I’ve booked a ticket for you to come home with me today. We can arrange for your—”
“My home is here, with Jared.”
“No.”
“You don’t have a say. When I was younger, I may have been disrespectful and disobeyed your orders and for that I am sorry, but I’m not a child anymore.”
“Eva, that boy—”
“He’s no longer a boy. He’s a man and he loves me. He is my heart.” I don’t bother sitting, sensing this will be quick and perhaps never resolved. “You may not like that, but you of all people should understand true love. Isn’t that what you had with Mamá?”
He nods, a sheen to his brown eyes. For all the cruel and misguided things he’s done, he does love fiercely and completely. Even after all these years without my mother, he still weeps, missing her as if we lost her only yesterday.
“True love?” His brows rise and frown deepens. “Eva, you’re confused. It was a childhood crush, if we must call it anything.”
“No.” Shaking my head, I gift him a sad smile. “It was so much more than that, and you had to have been blind not to see it. I didn’t have the wisdom or words to explain it back then, but Jared and I are meant for each other. There is no one else for me.”
My shoulders square and I straighten, looking him keenly in the eye. “I won’t argue with you about this.”
“And what are you going to do here?” Frustration creeps into his rising tone.
“I’ll find a job doing what I did in Barcelona. And if I have to take some tests or get recertified, or whatever, I will.”
I haven’t looked into what’s needed to continue my profession, but I’ll do whatever it takes. None of it is impossible or daunting. It’s what I want.
“And what about your life in Barcelona?”
“I didn’t have a life there. I was trying to survive, and there’s nothing there for me.” Melancholy fills my heart for how much my father chose not to see.
“This is stupid.” He slaps his hand against his thigh, reminding me of a moody child who is unhappy with an outcome. My father has always thought his way is the only way.
“What you did…the lie.” I change the direction of our conversation like any smart parent will when trying to avoid their child’s meltdown. “I can’t ever get past that.”
“What?” He leans into the table, brow furrowed.
“I will forgive you…eventually. You’re my father, but I won’t forget. You made decisions for me that weren’t yours to make. And I’d like to think your motives were good, but that isn’t enough to overlook the past.”
Tears well in my eyes, and his face creases, troubled.
“I love you, Papi, but if you can’t accept Jared in my life then we don’t have much of a future.”
“What?” he says again and pushes his chair away from the table as if to stand. “What are you saying?”
“You’ve forced me to choose. It didn’t have to be one or the other. You made it this way, and I choose Jared.”
His tanned complexion pales and deep-set eyes bore into me. “Eva, you’re my daughter. You can’t ask me to not look out for you. I only want what’s best for you.”
“I’m asking you to trust my heart, trust my judgment. It’s time you give me the freedom I deserve to live my life the way I want to.”
“And if I can’t sit by and let that…that…” He gives up, shaking his head and mashing his lips together.
He is so stubborn, and it’s plain to see he might never accept Jared. Sadness is a giant wave, rolling over me, trying to pull me down.
“You know what I can’t reconcile?” My head tilts to one side, studying him and hoping to get through his thick skull. “You and Jared are similar in some ways.”
“Don’t kid yourself,” he scoffs. “We’re nothing alike.”
“I didn’t say you were alike in personality. You’re similar in that you both came from what some would say was the wrong side of the tracks. When Mamá met you and fell in love with you, her father thought you were no good for her.”
Now he nods and twists his face into a painful expression. He’s likely remembering all of the strife and heartache Abuelo’s dislike caused. He made life difficult for my parents, and I suppose my father had a strong role model to emulate in doing the same to Jared. But I won’t let him do any more harm.
“Abuelo cut her out of his will because she chose you, but she didn’t care. She loved you and knew you were a good man. I’m in the same situation. You put me here.”
“I’m not cutting you out of my life.” I can hear the sorrow in his words.
“No, but I will if I have to.” My heart lurches just thinking this may be the last time we see each other. “Jared is the best man I know with the kindest and biggest heart. He loves me like no other could, and I will spend my life with him.”
My father opens his mouth, most probably ready to object once more, and I hold up my hand to stop him. I’m done listening to his protests.
“Have a safe flight. Goodbye, Papi.”
Breakfast is ready and waiting when I return to Jared’s. He’s showering, and I fix a coffee and wait on one of the stools for him.
Not long after, he saunters into the large high-end kitchen in only lounge pants, hanging low on his tapered hips. Rows of perfectly chiseled abs set my body alive, flipping a switch into full-on need.
It’s been nearly three weeks without sex, and he’s been nothing but a gentleman thanks to my wishes, but I’m done waiting and looking back at the past. The conversation with my father helped me realize I only want to look to the future.
“Hey, how did it go?” He lightly kisses my forehead.
“Fine. As expected.”
“Are you sure?” He sits beside me, pulling my stool in between his long, toned thighs.
“Yes. And I don’t want to talk about my father. Not now, anyway. Later.”
His lips press a slow, long kiss on mine, and I need to touch him. My hands rest on his hard-as-steel thighs, and I lean into him.
He tenses, the bulge in his pants swelling. “Eva, what are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“You’re getting handsy.”
“Handsy? Is that even a word?”
“I just made it one.”
I snort, laughing. “What? You don’t like my hands on you?” I raise them off his legs and he seizes my wrists, placing them back where they were.
“Fuck, no, I love your hands on me. That’s the problem. I lose all brain function. All the blood rushes to my cock.”