“Maritza.” Ian’s voice over my shoulder brings my commentary to a screeching halt. “Everything okay over here? Just came to find you. Wasn’t sure if you got lost.”
Her gaze lifts, traveling between us, and she nods. “Yeah. It’s fine.”
“No, everything is not fine.” My voice is a harsh growl and my jaw tightens. “Go back to Mom’s room. Go back to pretending like you’re some stand-up guy.”
“Isaiah.” Maritza’s voice is somewhat scolding, like she thinks I’m being hard on him, but if she only knew …
“You can’t date him, Maritza,” I say. “Date anyone else. Just not him.”
“You can’t tell her who to fucking date,” Ian says, trying to step between us. I place my hand on his chest and shove him out of the way, keeping my eyes trained on her.
“What makes you think we’re together?” Her arms fold across her chest and her gaze narrows.
Chuffing, I say, “Because that’s what he said …”
“Ian, is that true?” Maritza peers over my shoulder to where my brother stands. “Did you say we were seeing each other?”
I answer for him. “Yeah. He was telling our mom all about you, how he was going to introduce you to the family soon and all this other shit.”
“I never once said we were dating,” Ian says, the embarrassment in his tone obvious, but that’s what he gets for lying.
“But you sure as hell made it sound that way.” I talk to my brother but I’m looking at her. “See, Maritza? He’s a liar, a master manipulator. You can’t date him.”
“I’m not.” Her pretty face is red and twisted and she glares at both of us with the same disdain. “I’m not dating Ian. We’re just friends.”
“Good. You deserve better than that jackass,” I say.
“What, like you’re any better?” Ian chuckles.
Turning to face him, I rush him against the wall and gather his shirt in my hands, giving him a good, hard shove until that stupid fucking smile of his disappears.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” A hand on my back gathers a fistful of my shirt and yanks me away.
Calista.
“The hell are you two doing out here? Having a pissing match? In the middle of a hospital? Are you both insane?” Our sister splays her hand on Ian’s chest, keeping him from making any sudden moves as he stands there seething.
He’s lucky I didn’t bash his fucking head in.
“I’m sorry, it was a bad idea coming here. I’m going to go.” Maritza turns to leave before anyone has a chance to stop her.
“Is that the girl you like, Isaiah?” Calista asks. “The concert girl? How does she know Ian?”
Maritza turns for a split second, as if she heard my sister, but then she’s gone.
As much as I hate the fact that I didn’t get to say my piece and explain everything the way I wanted to, at least she got to see firsthand what a Svengali my brother is. If I can keep her from so much as thinking about dating him … I’ve secured a small victory.
But the war is far from over and I’m hardly done fighting.
I won’t stop fighting until I win her back.
Chapter Forty-Two
Maritza
“Thanks for meeting me today,” I say when Ian arrives at the Coffee Bean on San Vicente. I feel like it’s only fitting that we have this conversation here, where we first “officially” met. “How’s your mother? Is she okay?”
He takes a seat. “Yeah. She’s going home today. They think there was some kind of mix-up with her meds, so they’re getting that straightened out and she should be good to go.”
My hand covers my chest. “So glad to hear that.”
“And before you say anything,” Ian says, “let me just apologize for yesterday. For Isaiah. You shouldn’t have been put in the middle of that, and I hate that he made you feel uncomfortable.”
“You don’t need to apologize for your brother,” I say, noting the way he wasted no time placing all of the blame on Isaiah.
“Sorry.” His full lips twist into a smile. “Old habit.”
“But I wanted to talk to you about what he said … about you telling your mom about me and wanting to introduce me to your family …”
He sits up straight, eyes locked on mine.
“I thought I made it clear that I didn’t want to date you,” I say. “And you said you only saw me as a friend.”
Dragging his hand along his smooth jaw, he flashes a disarming smirk. “Yeah, I guess … I guess my feelings changed, Maritza. And I got a little ahead of myself.”
“Why’d you give him the impression we were dating?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know why he interpreted it that way.”
I’m beginning to see through him, little by little, piece by piece. There are all these little nuances in the way he talks, the word choices he uses. It’s crazy that I didn’t see these things before, but I can’t stop seeing them now.