“Oh.” I shake my head. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
He laughs ruefully. “Would it sound crazy if I said your attendance was mandatory?”
“Says who?”
“My mother.”
“Your… mother?” Why on earth would his mother want me at a family dinner?
“Yes. And trust me when I say, it is easier to give in to her than to fight it.”
I stare at Mateo without really looking at him, lost in thought over the strangeness of the day.
“Please?” he asks, taking my hands in his.
It’s that single word that seals my fate. “Sure. What time?”Chapter SixteenSeraphine“What does one wear to a family dinner?” I ask Magnolia, my phone pressed to my ear as I rifle through my closet.
She sighs wistfully. “I can’t believe he invited you to meet his family.”
“Technically, his mother did. And I already know his family—well, his siblings.”
“That means she wants to meet you.” Another soft sigh. “How romantic.”
“I’m not so sure about that. Which is why I need to know what to wear, Mags!”
My cousin laughs. “Okay, let me switch the call to video.”
Together, we narrow it down to a pair of boyfriend-cut jeans paired with a black camisole and a chunky gray cardigan.
“Wear your hair down.”
“Got it. I’ll call you—”
“Oh! And that necklace Myla Rose gave you last year for Christmas!”
“Okay. I’ll call you—”
“And be sure to smile!”
“Magnolia! If I don’t get in the shower, I won’t be going at all.”
“Sorry. I’m excited for you is all.”
I shrug. “It’s just dinner. We’ll talk later tonight.”
After we finally say our goodbyes, I fly through getting ready, opting for soft waves and a subtle makeup look.
I pass Mateo’s house on the drive over and can’t help but recall how waking up in his bed made me feel. Even after such a terrible night, being cocooned in his sheets and surrounded by his scent, was heaven.
His mother’s house is a modest-sized craftsman style bungalow. The driveway, as well as the street in front of the house, is full with cars, so I park on the opposite side of the road.
Apprehension bubbles in my belly as I climb the steps and approach the door. My limbs feel lead-weighted and my lungs struggle to push air through. Oh, God, why am I here?
I should go.
I’ll text Mateo and tell him something came up.
I need to go.
On shaky feet, I pivot to head back down the stairs. But the sound of the door opening has me frozen on the spot.
“Mariposita.” Mateo’s voice wraps around me, settling my nerves in a way nothing else can. “Where are you going?”
“Oh, uh,” I stammer. “To get my phone from the car. I left it.”
He eyes me curiously. “Go on then. I’ll wait.”
Swallowing roughly, I nod before dashing across the street to my car. I pretend to look for my phone—which is nestled safely in my bag—before sliding it out and holding it up in faux-success.
I feel slightly calmer as I head back to Mateo. I wave my phone at him before slipping it back into my bag.
His eyes crinkle at the corners, like he knows I’m full of shit. Thankfully, he doesn’t call me on it. “Dinner is almost ready.”
“Oh, great. I’m starving,” I lie, knowing full and well I probably won’t be able to eat a bite.
Twining his fingers with mine, Mateo pulls me into the house after him.
“Is she here?” comes an accented yell from somewhere deeper in the home.
“Sí, Mamá,” Mateo replies, casting a wry grin my way.
A sudden bout of nerves sends my body to a jerking halt, as if my feet are encased in cement. The force of my stop causes Mateo to relinquish his hold on my hand, which only amplifies my anxiety.
“Seraphine,” he says as he spins toward me; whatever look he sees on my face has him stepping into my space and holding me close. “Do not be nervous. My siblings already love you; Desi, too. My mother has heard so much about you, she feels like you’re family already.”
My breaths come in short, rapid puffs. I try to regulate my breathing, but I can’t seem to drag in enough oxygen.
“Hey, hey, shh.” Mateo rubs my back. “Breathe in with me.” He inhales, guiding me, and together we exhale. “Just breathe and let things happen.”
The sound of muffled footsteps followed by a small gasp has us breaking apart.
“Mamá, meet Seraphine,” Mateo says. “Seraphine, this is my mother, Leticia.”
“Qué bendicion—what a blessing.” His mom’s voice and smile equally warm and inviting, as she approaches me with open arms.
“It’s nice to meet you, Leticia,” I say, holding out my hand for her to shake.
She bypasses it, going straight for a tight embrace. She smells like spices and motherly love—if such a scent exists. As she pulls away, she presses a kiss to each of my cheeks. “No, no-no. You will call me Lety.”
Unexpected emotions well up within me. For this woman, who doesn’t know me from a stranger off the street to be so kind and accepting, it’s almost more than I can comprehend.