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“Why?”

“It’s complicated. We have different approaches to things.”

She frowns. “You were so excited about working on the project. You even talked about how cool you could make her studio. And she’s going to need it now that she has the good news about her channel.”

“I was excited, but I messed up today.”

“How?”

“I let my frustration speak for me and said things I shouldn’t. I was rude.”

She shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re never rude. Not even to Mr. Elias.”

Because of you and Bron and Cam. Otherwise, I would have told him que se vaya pal carajo.

“I was rude and assumed a bunch of things that weren’t true. Now she’s really upset.”

I don’t want to tell Ayla that Lux fired me. She likes Lux. I don’t need to make things messy, especially because there are so many friendships in the middle of this. Bron and Ayla, Cam and me, Chase and me. There’s too much riding on this, which is the reason why we both had agreed to keep things civil and work together. But anything involving Luciana is bound to be messy, and I can’t do messy. Not with this.

“Papi,” my daughter yells.

“Huh?”

She shakes her head. “You really are feeling bad. I was saying you should apologize to her. Call her and ask her to meet you for coffee, and then you can tell her that you were frustrated and took it out on her.”

It’s funny how I didn’t think about that, but it’s such a simple concept. But how do I say that when she’s the source of my frustration?

And that’s when it hits me. Jesus, I was jealous.

“That’s what you would tell me to do,” Ayla continues when I say nothing.

“You think so?”

“Yes, sir. Because we don’t do rudeness. You would tell me to apologize for my part in it without mentioning where they went wrong, because I need to stand up for my mistakes and not gaslight anyone.”

“Gaslight? I’ve never used that word.”

“Maybe I heard that on TV.” She pushes herself onto my chest and hugs me. “We all make mistakes. Just apologize.”

“What if she doesn’t accept?”

“She will.”

I kiss the top of her head. “What makes you so sure?”

“I know, sir. Trust me. And get her some macaroons from Citlali’s. She’s crazy about those.”

I highly doubt this will work, but I’m going to try anyway. For my baby. I don’t want her to ever be disappointed in me. And because I let jealousy that I had no right feeling get the best of me. And now I hate feeling like the biggest asshole in the world.

7

Lux

It’s a beautiful morning. Fells Point is almost empty. The view beyond the water looks straight out of a tourism poster.

But I’m walking faster and faster, like I’m trying to outrun this picturesque scene. This is supposed to be relaxing. I love exercising, and most of all, I love walking outdoors. I used to walk forty or fifty blocks on the Upper West Side, get a walking breakfast, and then have the most endorphin-blessed day.

Today, I’m hungry, cranky, wound tighter than CJ’s toy guitar—and getting more annoyed every time my phone pings. So, I walk as fast as I can without running until a hand clamps on my arm and stops me in my tracks.