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I sigh. “Don’t talk like that. Your brother would lose it if he heard you say that.”
He clicks his tongue. “I should work on considering the people I love more.”
I sip my lemonade, and the sour, sweet taste hits me. “You should,” I answer.
He nods and turns to me. Our eyes meet, and I realize how different he looks. His buff body looks almost slender, but it isn’t missing its aura of intimidation. His hair is so grown out that it falls over his ears, and his brown eyes have lost their intensity.
So why does his gaze still send shivers down my spine? Why do I feel butterflies from sitting so close to him?
“I’m sorry, Alyssa.”
I let out a laugh. “Suddenly? Maybe you are really about to die.”
“I’m an asshole.”
I shrug. “That’s an understatement.”
His eyes search my face. “You should hate me. You should be so disgusted with me that you want to start a life where you hear nothing about me ever again.”
“I’ll look into doing that.”
“But you’re here.”
I am carrying your child, but I don’t say it. It’s something I have no courage to say out loud.
“I get it now,” I say.
He looks up at me.
“You feel sorry for me, don’t you, Antonio?”
He signs and then continues, “Alyssa, you’re getting it wrong.”
“Am I?” I ask. I stand up, and I sigh.
“I get it, I look dumb and pathetic. Believe me, I berate myself every morning. You aren’t as disgusted with me as I am disgusted with myself.”
“I have never felt disgust for you.”
“So it’s a pity then, for how pathetic I am. Got it.”
He slowly gets up to his feet. “Alyssa.”
“I am tired of everyone asking me why I am by your side. I have no idea why I am, okay? It’s just how it is.” I wipe the moisture gathering in my eyes. “So quit talking to me nicely because you feel sorry for me making an ass of myself.”
He doesn’t respond; he just stares blankly.
Embarrassed by my outburst, I lower my head. “I should go to bed.”
He reaches over, grabs my arm, and pulls me into his arms, enveloping me in a warm hug. My head is pressed against his chest, and he holds me so tight that I can’t break free, not that I want to. I feel myself melting into his arms despite my confusion. His hold is safe, familiar, and nostalgic.
“I don’t think you’re pathetic or disgusting. If anyone is, it’s me.” He lets out a heavy exhale. “You’re the strongest woman I know.” For me, the world stands still as he holds me in his arms.
“Antonio,” I say softly. He answers me by looking down at me. My heart skips a beat as his face hovers close above mine.
“We should go inside,” I say.
He nods and slowly pulls away. You shouldn’t strain your shoulders like that,” I say, looking away.
