Page 26 of Truth or More Truth (Throwback RomComs #3)

twenty-five

. . .

“Try not to look so happy to see me,” he teases.

I give myself a shake. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting you. Where’s Bobby?” I peer down the hallway toward his room.

“Somewhere over Oklahoma, flying through the famous wind that sweeps down the plains.” Diego holds out a note. “This is from him. Let’s go inside so you can read it, and then we’ll hit the road.”

He follows me into the room with his suitcase, and I ask while unfolding the note, “We’ll hit the road?”

“I am driving with you to Chicago. Just read the note.”

I perch on the edge of the bed and do as he says.

Dear Melissa,

I apologize for disappearing in the middle of the night, but there’s an emergency back home, and I need to head back now to take care of a few things. The details aren’t something I want to share with you in a quick note, but try not to worry, and I’ll explain everything soon.

I was really looking forward to our drive today, but hopefully Diego will be a decent substitute.

Actually, I know he will be. As I write this, he doesn’t even know he’ll be going with you, but I’m confident he’ll drop any other plans to do so, because that’s the kind of man he is.

Just don’t fall for his charms. You know how he can be.

The past few days with you have been some of the happiest of my life. I hope we can add to those days in the near future.

I’ll talk to you soon.

Bobby Joe (a.k.a. B.S.)

Bobby’s message elicits a host of emotions I’m not sure what to do with. What happened back home? And to who? What does he need to explain? And was he serious about the past few days being some of the happiest of his life?

I look up at Diego, who’s watching me carefully.

“Do you know what this emergency is?”

He nods. “I do.”

“But you’re not going to tell me what it is?”

“That is Bobby’s story to tell. Not mine.”

“He’s OK, though?” I fold the note back up and stick it in my pocket. “He said not to worry, but how can I not? This has to be something really serious if he left in the middle of the night.”

Diego places his hand on my shoulder. “Bobby is a strong man. He will be OK, don’t you worry.

But he has a lot of responsibilities, and he doesn’t like letting down the people he cares about.

Please just trust him, and be patient with him.

It’s not easy for him to let people in. He is ready to let you in, but that will have to wait a little longer. ”

I’m dying to know what Bobby’s many responsibilities are.

It don’t think it’s his parents, considering he emancipated himself at sixteen because his home life wasn’t good.

And he was cagey about any siblings when I asked.

He also didn’t specifically say it was a work emergency, so I don’t think it’s that.

I really hope he wouldn’t leave me in the middle of the night on New Year’s Day for work.

But maybe that’s part of being an agent.

I don’t know enough about that world to take an educated guess.

If it is a work thing, though, I’m not sure how I feel about that, when it comes to potentially having a long-term relationship with him.

Do I want to be with a guy who has to take off unexpectedly in the middle of the night?

“OK.” I nod, even though my head is spinning. “I can be patient.”

“Yes, you can. Now,” he claps his hands together, “the sooner we leave, the sooner we get there. Who’s driving first?”

Diego is an entertaining road trip partner.

His giant bag contains several cassette tapes that he brought to listen to in his Walkman, and he’s introducing me to some of his favorite Spanish-language singers.

Listening to him sing along is a delight.

He’s overly expressive, and he has excellent pitch.

He occasionally takes a break from singing to translate the lyrics for me.

“What did you and Bobby do in the car on the way to Arkansas?” he asks me as he switches out one tape for another.

“Mostly listened to music. We also got to know each other a little bit. And we played ‘Truth or Dare.’”

Diego rubs his hands together. “Oooo! Let’s play. I’ll start. Truth or dare, beautiful Melissa?”

I’m scared of what he might ask me, but I’m more afraid of what he might dare me to do, so I choose truth.

“Yes!” He pumps a fist in the air and yelps like a little girl when it hits the ceiling. Thankfully it’s not his pitching hand. “What do you think of our Bobby? Does he make your heart go pitter-patter? Do you want to have his babies?”

I smack his chest with the back of my hand, making him yelp again. “Diego! I’m not telling you any of that. It’s none of your business. Plus, that was three questions. You only get one.”

“It is my business, because Bobby is my brother from an American mother. I need to make sure you will not break his fragile little man-heart.”

A laugh bursts out of me. “Nothing about Bobby is fragile.”

“Ah, on this matter you’re mistaken. Deep down, under all the no-nonsense agentyness, Bobby Jacobs has a sensitive soul. He feels things deeply when they are personal to him and the people he loves. You will come to see that.”

I flick my gaze his way. “Yeah?”

“Si, mi amiga. And he is as loyal as they come, our Bobby. He is a prince among men. I wouldn’t trust him with my career and my friendship and the matters of my fragile little man-heart if he was not. Promise me you will treat my brother with tender care.”

My heart warms at how much Diego cares about Bobby. “I promise I will.”

“Good. Now, answer my questions. That is the way this game works. You must answer, or you owe me one million dollars.”

I laugh again. “I don’t have a million dollars.”

“Then you must answer!”

There’s no stopping the corners of my mouth from turning up when I recall Diego’s questions.

I decide to answer one of them, because he already knows the answer, or he wouldn’t have asked.

“He does make my heart go pitter-patter.” In fact, it’s pitter-pattering right now, just from thinking about the way Bobby kissed me last night.

“Yes! I knew it! You know how? Because I can hear it, even now. Pitter-patter-pitter-patter.” He taps his fingers on my shoulder to the beat.

I giggle. “You can’t hear it.”

“Maybe not, but I saw how you looked at him last night. There is mucho pitter-pattering in your chest.”

What about Bobby’s heart? Is it pitter-pattering? I want to ask Diego that, but I don’t. Regardless of what happened over the past few days or what Bobby said in his note, I’m afraid I’ve misinterpreted everything .

“And what about babies?” Diego asks. “You want little mini-Bobby bambinos running around, yes? You can tell Uncle Diego.” He places his hand on his chest in a dramatic manner. “I will not tell a soul.”

“I’m still not answering that.” I shake my head, yet I can’t help but imagine little dark-haired boys running around a yard while Bobby and I watch from a cushioned porch swing.

“So you will not tell me whether you want the babies,” he says slyly, “but what about the making of the babies?”

My face heats at the thought, and I poke my passenger in the shoulder. “You’re a mess, Uncle Diego. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Every day of my life.”