Page 112 of Lash

Ren chuckles. "It is funny that we have all been calling him Little Lorenzo in English. His mother, Beatriz, she calls him Reninho. Basically it means Little Ren." He pronounces itRen-IHN-yo.

"Guess who just got a new nickname?" Solomon says, laugh. "Reninho and Big Reninho."

Lorenzo cackles. "That is stupid. Big little Ren makes no sense. I thought you were fluent in Portuguese."

Solomon just laughs again. "I am. But it's funny. Big Reninho."

“No." Lorenzo says it flat—no discussion necessary. "I will do some thinking and make some calls. Sophia,meu amor—"

"Ren, stop," Inez snaps. "Not now. Please. You must give me time."

"When you have watched Rafael bleed out, you mean," Lorenzo says, not without some bitterness. "Then you will let yourself love me."

Inez sighs. "Perhaps I do mean that. But also, I am a very private person and this is not a private situation. You are on speaker phone."

Ren sighs. "Of course, you are right. I'm sorry,meu—Sophia. I understand. Do what you must. I will see that Rafael's estate is destroyed even if I just go there and burn it down myself."

"I know you will," Inez answers. "I trust you."

"At least there is that," Lorenzo says with a sigh. “It is a start."

"Lorenzo," Inez snaps.

He just laughs. "I have loved you since the moment I saw you, Sophia Bruna Santos de Silva. I have waited a very, very long time to be reunited with you, and yet you keep slipping out of my fingers. You must indulge me at least a little bit."

Finally, Inez's voice softens into something like tenderness. "I know, Ren. I know. Soon, okay? I promise, you will have me to yourself very soon."

Silence. "You do not make promises, Sophia."

"This, I do."

Another silence. "Eu te amo. Conversaremos em breve."

Inez's eyes squeeze shut, hard, and she shakes her head, clutching the phone until her knuckles turn white. "Te—" her teeth click together. "Talk later, Ren. Goodbye."

She tosses the phone to Sol, levers awkwardly and stiffly off the bed, and limps out of the room—I think under other circumstances she'd have stormed out angrily, but in her current state, a pained, limping shuffle is the best she can do. She doesmanage to slam the door so hard it shudders, hitting the lock latch and shivering back open.

"Sophia?" I hear Lorenzo's voice say from the speaker.

Solomon clears his throat. "She's gone, man. Thinkin' maybe it was too soon for ‘I love you.’”

Lorenzo just chuckles. "She knows I love her. She has fought it from day one. Even as a teenage girl, she was prickly and difficult. But, much like the cactuses of your Southwest deserts, beauty blooms among the thorns."

Solomon snorts. “Well, now that poetry hour is over, we gotta get ready to go and you gotta call people about blowing shit up."

"You are just jealous that you do not have my sensitive nature," Lorenzo teases.

"Yeah, I'm just a brutish American," Solomon drawls. “Talk later, Ren."

He taps the screen to end the call and shoves the phone into his pocket. "Alright, then, boys and girls. We've got a plane to catch back to the good ol' U-S-of-A. Get your shit together and meet in the lobby in thirty." He points at Nico and then me. "That means the fuck-fest is over, you two."

I blush furiously and duck my head, cheeks burning, embarrassment blazing in my gut. "Sol!"

He chuckles. "I'm teasin', babe. Mostly. Our ride is gonna be here soon, though."

"You didn't—hear us, did you?" I ask.

Kane splutters a laugh. "Half of fuckin' Rio, heard you, darlin'. And I gotta say, it's good to see a smile on our boy's face."