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“You’re a dickhead.”

“Another un-Cas-like remark, although I reckon your jaddatee would grant you a little slack, considering the circumstances.”

“I want to create enough space for me to pay the rent on an apartment, then ask Beatriz to share.” He’d convince her to agree. “So, is that a yes?”

“Are you sure?”

“About you? I should have asked years ago. About Beatriz? I was sure before we made love, but making love to Beatriz is the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me. Does that make sense?”

“To me it does. Tell me what you need me to do. And talk to Raed.”

“I will.”

Then I need to convince Beatriz this will work.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Bea’s mother was alreadyseated when Bea arrived at the restaurant the Gomez family favoured for special occasions. Just the three of them tonight. Bea couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten in a restaurant with just her parents, if ever.

Butterflies, of the kind she’d only experienced a few times in her life, bounced around her belly. Trepidation, like the time she’d waited at the hospital for her middle sister’s birth, when the doctors had said it was touch-and-go for mother and child, when her father had been injured at work, and her mother had taken off at a run, leaving Bea to explain and console her younger sisters. Terrors that hadn’t become disasters.

Losing Casildo was a disaster on a scale of its own.

She understood her promises to her parents, understood Casildo’s promise to himself. Understanding made no difference. His presence had become essential to her happiness, to her ability to breathe freely, to put one foot in front of the other, to string words together. She was a fool ever imagining a few weeks of Cas’s lovemaking would be enough. She’d known it, but taken all she thought was on offer.

“Hola, Mamá.” Bea bent to kiss her mother’s cheek, before taking the second seat at the table set for three. “Where’s Papá?”

“He’ll be here soon. I wanted a few minutes to myself with you.”

“Is something wrong?”

Bea checked her memory for something important she’d missed, some responsibility she’d forgotten because she couldn’t think past abandoning Cas. Except he was the one who’d moved out. She was staying at Anna’s the extra two weeks to get her emotions in check. She kept bursting into tears at the stupidest things—a bottle of beer in the fridge, a T-shirt Casildo had left behind. She should move back home.

Except she needed time alone to grieve.

“Who’s the man?”