Love unwritten, p.6
Love Unwritten, page 6
part #2 of Lakefront Billionaires Series
Why do you care? She isn’t your problem anymore.
If that were true, then why does my chest feel so uncomfortably tight all of a sudden? And how do I explain the tension building underneath my skull, pulsing with every pump of my heart?
Nico shakes my arm hard enough to pull me away from my thoughts. “Why is all her stuff gone?” His voice cracks on the final word.
My reply gets trapped in my throat as he looks up at me with eyes filled to the brim with tears. I knew this conversation would be difficult, but I was hoping it could wait until after I placated him with pancakes, a new 3D-printed superhero to add to his growing collection, and an important conversation about always telling each other the truth.
“You made her leave, didn’t you?” A dark look passes over his face that I recognize too often on my own, and it instantly makes my stomach churn.
I kneel before him so we can be at eye level. “I know you care about Ellie, but I can’t let her take care of you anymore after she hid the truth from me.”
Rather than give in to the tears threatening to fall, Nico shoves me with all his might, and I wobble on my knees before regaining my balance. My kid has never been aggressive a single day in his life. Nico is a lover, not a fighter, so I’m floored by his reaction.
Floored and heartbroken, although I ignore the ache in my chest as I try to reach for him.
He steers clear of my open arms. “You told her to leave?”
“Yes.”
“Why? Why? Why?” He shoves me again, but I’m better prepared this time to take the hit, both to my heart and my body.
I gently clasp his wrists. “Use your words, not your hands.”
He tries to pull himself free of my hold. “No.”
“Nicolas,” I beg. “You know I couldn’t let her stay after what happened.”
“She’s my best friend.” Desperation bleeds into his voice.
“She was your nanny.”
“No! You don’t understand!” He tries to break out of my hold and fails. “She wanted to tell you, but I told her not to.” A single tear rolls down his cheek.
I hate myself for hurting him like this, and I hate Ellie even more for putting me in this kind of position in the first place. If she hadn’t left in the middle of the night, I could have had time to better prepare Nico for her departure.
“She’s the adult and you’re the kid. You might not have known better, but she did.”
He shakes his head repeatedly. “You took my best friend away.”
“I’ll find you someone better—”
“No! I want Ellie!”
“That’s not possible.”
“You always make everyone leave!”
I let him go, too stunned by his killing blow to do anything but sit still while my son runs back to his room. He slams the door hard enough to make the frame shake.
I’m not sure how much time passes, but I don’t get up until the ache in my knees matches the one in my chest.
You always make everyone leave. Nico’s words haunt me.
My mom. My ex-wife. Ellie. The list continues to grow, along with my trust issues.
Since I despise letting any food go to waste after going to bed hungry far too many times, I eat Nico’s serving and mine while my thoughts of self-loathing keep me company at the kitchen island.
Just a typical Tuesday.
CHAPTER NINE
Ellie
I drive to my mom’s house on the south side of town, far away from the dazzling mansions lining the lakeshore and Willow’s waterfront bungalow that has survived the test of time despite the town’s real estate developer and Rafael’s cousin, Julian Lopez, trying to buy up the property.
My mom and stepdad live at the southern tip of town, close to Nico’s school and the town’s fairgrounds, which host Lake Wisteria’s famous festivals celebrating all four seasons. Our area is run-down and far less glamorous than the rest of town, but my mom has done her best to turn the dilapidated three-bedroom house into a home worth visiting every week.
My stepdad, Burt, opens the door with the biggest smile. “Ellie Sophia Sinclair. What a nice surprise.”
“Is it?” I check out their empty living room. It’s changed a lot since I was a kid, thanks to my mom’s never-ending decorating ideas and Burt’s willingness to try them out despite disliking manual labor and the hour-long drive to my mom’s favorite home decor store.
“To what do we owe this random drop-in? It’s not even Saturday.”
My smile falls. “I got fired.”
His gray brows pull together. “Who do I need to speak to?”
My laugh comes out more like a sob.
“Oh no. Not the tears. I don’t handle those very well.” My stepdad pulls me into one of his famous bear hugs. They always make me feel like a little kid again, even after outgrowing him by a few inches once I turned twelve.
“Beatrice! Come quick. Our daughter needs your help while I go murder her boss.”
“Ex-boss.”
He squeezes me hard. “Not if I can help it.”
“What?” My mom comes rushing out of the kitchen with a cloud of flour dust following her. “Ellie? What are you doing here?”
“Hi, Mom.” I wiggle out of Burt’s embrace and wipe the tears from my face.
Burt softly pushes me in my mom’s direction. “Keep an eye on her while I go searching for my ax.”
“It’s in the garage. Bottom left shelf next to the paint cans.”
“Mom.”
“What’s going on?” She cradles my head between her palms before kissing my forehead.
“I’ll tell you, but first you need to convince Burt not to murder Rafael.”
He stands as tall as his five-foot-seven frame will allow. “I wasn’t going to murder him.”
“Or threaten bodily harm,” I add. “What will my mom do if you end up in jail?”
Mom gives my cheeks a squeeze. “He’d wait until I found a way to end up in there with him.”
“You two are hopeless,” I groan before throwing myself on the sectional.
“Fortunately.” Burt draws my mom into a side hug and kisses the top of her head. She melts into him with the silliest smile on her face.
When I was a kid, I used to think it was gross that my mom had a crush on my music teacher–turned–tutor who gave me free lessons because he liked her too, but now, I can’t get enough of their love. It’s nice to know that my mom is with someone who cares about her as much as I do, especially after the train wreck of a marriage she had with my biological father.
We don’t talk about him much, mostly because we’ve both put in the work to move on from his psychological abuse, but that doesn’t mean I never think about the man, especially when it’s so easy to see how much kinder and more patient Burt is.
My mom and Burt fuss over me while they help me unload the car and carry my belongings into my childhood bedroom. I take the lead on unpacking everything. Once everything is put back in its place, I lay on my pink, ruffled comforter and stare up at the stars stuck to the ceiling.
Funny how a year ago I was sharing a small Los Angeles apartment with Ava and Willow, spending my days songwriting and my nights waitressing to cover the bills while I waited for my big break. Now, I’m back in my childhood bedroom like I never left.
Everything looks the same, with the walls covered by concert posters and fairy lights Burt hung when I was in middle school. Even my nightstand and the stacks of diaries in the bottom drawer remain untouched.
My mom checks out my newly organized closet full of hoodies, leggings, and T-shirts. “Must you wear so much black?”
“There’s some white clothes in there.”
“And navy.” Burt winks at me.
Mom frowns. “You dress like you’re in mourning.”
“Perfect, since I’ll be grieving my employment status for the foreseeable future.”
Burt cracks a smile, along with the tension, when he asks, “What do you say we play some music together while your mom does her thing?”
“I don’t know…”
“Come on. I even got a new guitar for you to test out.”
My lips press together.
“Did I mention how I found it while thrift shopping at Another Man’s Treasure? Turns out it was signed by Cole Griffin and Phoebe Montgomery.”
“You’re joking.”
“Nope. The shop owner confirmed that it’s real.”
I jump off my bed. “Oh my God! You have to show me!”
I have no idea how a guitar signed by Cole Griffin, legendary lyricist and folk musician, and his cowriter ended up at our town’s secondhand shop, but I need to see it.
Burt laughs to himself as I follow him out of my bedroom and into his makeshift music room, which doubles as my mom’s home office. The space brings back many fond memories of us spending hours together while he taught me how to play the same instruments I’m teaching Nico.
Taught Nico.
My throat constricts, along with my heart.
Deep breaths, Ellie.
“What are you thinking about that’s got you looking like you sucked on a lemon?” Burt asks.
“Nothing.” I check out the acoustic guitar with Cole and Phoebe’s signatures before remembering. “Oh no.”
“What?”
“I forgot my guitar at the Lopez house.”
Burt’s face pales. “Do you want me to get it for you?”
“No,” I say in a rush.
“I don’t mind the drive. It might be nice to see how the other half lives.”
“They’re not the other half. They’re the .0001 percenters.”
“Why use math when you can just say filthy rich?”
I shake my head with a laugh. “I appreciate you offering to help, but no. I’m already enough of an imposition as it is.”
“An imposition? To whom? Let me have a word with them.” He searches the empty room for a missing person like a total goof.
Someone needs to protect this man at all costs because he is a national treasure.
“I don’t want to be a bother.”
He shoots me an exasperated look while holding a guitar out for me to grab. “You’re not. But if you insist on helping, then you should get a new job soon. Our water bill is going to double next month thanks to your long showers.”
I strum the chords with my middle finger, earning a deep belly laugh from him.
“Are you hiring at the music store?” I ask.
“For you, always, although I’ve got to warn you… some of the newer kids who come in for music lessons are tough. I blame those millionaire transplants who swear their children are the next Chopin and Beethoven.”
I make a face. “I hope I can handle it.”
“I know you can. You’re a Sinclair, after all.”
My chest warms. My stepdad is the most genuine, kind-hearted man I’ve ever met, and I’d be lucky to find a partner who is half the person he is. I may have never called him Dad, but he is mine in every way that counts, which is why I took on his last name.
Burt begins strumming the opening of our favorite song, and together, we play until I forget all about my life and all the problems waiting for me later, like getting my favorite guitar back.
CHAPTER TEN
Rafael
I try three separate times to start up a conversation with Nico during the ride to my aunt’s lakefront house near the northern part of town. I was hoping he would weigh in on what summer camp he wants to attend or what flavor cake he would like for his birthday party, but he completely ignores me. He even goes as far as putting on his superhero-themed headphones while I’m speaking.
Not even my aunt, who always manages to make Nico smile and laugh, is able to pull him out of his bad mood when we arrive at her house. He is so caught up in his thoughts that he almost forgets to give her a proper greeting until she reminds him.
With a reluctant groan, he kisses her cheek before turning away from both of us.
“What happened?” Josefina watches Nico retreat into the guest bedroom with his overnight bag. Her dark, professionally dyed hair and glowing tan skin make her look younger than her fifty-seven years. If it weren’t for her rare scowl emphasizing the few wrinkles surrounding her brown eyes and mouth, I would guess her to be around forty.
I brush my hand through my unruly hair. “He had an accident last night and had to go to the emergency room.”
“I wasn’t talking about his stitches.” She stares at me with a perfectly arched brow and her arms crossed tightly against her chest.
I release a deep sigh. “It’s a long story.”
“Perfect. You can share it while I cut your hair.” She drags me into the kitchen. The sight of tamales cooking on the stove makes my mouth water and my stomach grumble.
“Haircut first. Dinner after.” She pulls out a stool for me before gathering the supplies.
She lays out a few combs, a spray bottle full of water, and a pair of scissors. The silver clippers she plugs into the socket gleam from the sun shining through the window overlooking Lake Wisteria, taunting me.
Sometimes, I’m tempted to ask her to shave off my short beard, but then I’m quick to shake off the thought. Once upon a time, I shaved at least twice a week, but now, taking care of my beard feels like a massive effort. If it weren’t for Nico hating when it reaches a certain length, I doubt I’d bother with trimming it.
My aunt gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “No te preocupes. I’m only using those to clean up your edges.”
That loosens some of the tension in my shoulders. Josefina has been styling my hair since a middle school haircut went terribly wrong, so I trust her not to completely botch it. She might tease me about finding a good barber since I can afford one, but I know she secretly loves helping me, so I haven’t bothered replacing her.
No te preocupes: Don’t worry.
Like Julian and me, she loves feeling useful, even with something simple like cutting my hair.
There is nothing I want more than to make my aunt happy for the rest of her days. She deserves it after all she has done for me, including taking me in and raising me like her own son when my father passed away soon after my mother had.
I take a seat at the counter and wait as she sets herself up behind the barstool.
“¿Dime lo que está pasando?” She picks up the spray bottle.
“I let Ellie go.”
My aunt aims the nozzle at my face and shoots at my eyes.
“Hey!” I wipe the droplets away with a scowl. “What was that for?”
“How could you do that to her?”
“How could I do that to her? What about what she did to me? And to Nico?”
Her brows rise. “What do you mean?”
I explain everything that has happened in the last twenty-four hours while my aunt combs through my hair. When I finish, I peek over my shoulder.
“You’re right. She shouldn’t have kept Nico’s condition a secret.”
¿Dime lo que está pasando?: Tell me what’s going on.
I didn’t realize how much I needed my feelings validated until now because, with Nico treating me like public enemy number one, I was questioning if I made the right choice.
“I know,” I say with a sigh.
“Pero…” She lets the sentence hang.
“Don’t tell me you’re defending her now,” I mutter under my breath.
My aunt swaps the comb for the pair of scissors and shoots me a knowing look. “No. What she did was wrong, but I’m sure she had a good reason to risk her job for a secret like that.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “No reason will ever be good enough.”
“For you, no, but for Nico, it probably was, which is why he asked her not to say anything.”
I sit with my aunt’s comment for the rest of the day and question why my son hid the truth from me in the first place, and worse, why Ellie agreed with him.
The Kids’ Table group chat I share with Julian and the Muñoz sisters chimes from three new text notifications. I consider ignoring them and taking my horse out on the trail like I had planned, but curiosity wins.
I pat Penelope’s side and ask her to hold on a few minutes before pulling out my phone.
Pero…: But…
LILY
You fired Ellie?!
DAHLIA
What? No way.
LILY
Yes.
ME
Who told you?
My aunt promised not to say anything until this weekend, when Nico and I finally attend Sunday lunch after spending the last month filling our time with playdates, so I’m not sure how Lily found out.
I don’t have a chance to consider a list of likely suspects because my phone beeps again.
LILY
Doesn’t matter. Focus on the subject at hand.
DAHLIA
I liked her.
LILY
Me too. She made the best chocolate chip cookies.
DAHLIA
And homemade bread and pasta and pizza. Seriously, the woman has more recipes than Betty Crocker.
LILY
Don’t forget about her pozole. If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed she was Mexican too because it’s THAT good.
LILY
Dare I say it was better than Josefina’s.
*Lily unsent a message.*
DAHLIA
Slick.
DAHLIA
Too bad I already took a screenshot.
Lily follows up with a water gun emoji pointed at a smiling face.
JULIAN
You two do realize this is a group chat, right?
They both reply with a single “yes” text message.
ME
I can tell you’re both really concerned about why she was fired.
My cousin sends me a private text instead of replying in the group.
JULIAN
I take it that conversation with Ellie went well?
ME
Unfortunately, it was cut short by Nico being rushed to the hospital.
Julian’s name and contact photo pop up on my screen. I battle between letting it go to voicemail and answering before choosing the latter.
