I heard a car’s engine roar up the driveway, tires screeching, followed by the front door bursting open. “Where is that disgusting mudder fucker!” Patricio pushed past me and stormed into the foyer. “Get your ass out here, Maxwell Cole, you dirty bastard!”
“Patricio!” I grabbed for his arm. “You need to leave…”
“Max! I’m going to beat your ass!” Patricio yelled.
“Go, Patricio. Go!” I tried yanking him out by the arm, but he wasn’t budging.
Max appeared in the doorway, rolling up his sleeves. “What the fuck do you want, you piece of shit meatball?”
Patricio pointed at him. “I want to kill you. That’s what! You think you can frighten me?”
“Clearly, I cannot.” Max went to work on the next sleeve.
Oh shit. They’re gonna fight again.
“No. You cannot!” Patricio shook his finger at Max. “And Lily is mine.”
“No. I’m not,” I protested. “Now go!”
Patricio swiveled on his heel in my direction. “You and I both know that Sunday wasn’t really about doing me a favor.”
“What favor?” Max looked at me.
“Okay. This is getting out of hand.” I looked at Patricio. “I have no clue what you’re talking about. You said your mother would practically die if I didn’t show up for brunch.”
“Because she has wanted nothing more than to welcome you into our family. You don’t know them, but they love you already. And so do I! You only need to see it with your own eyes.”
Lightbulb. Sunday’s brunch was Patricio’s underhanded way of trying to win me back.
“So you what?” I waved my hand through the air. “You thought after our breakup three weeks ago that I’d meet your family and just swoon and agree to marry you?”
“Yes. Because I can offer you a real life with a real family. Not some broken twisted devil for a mother-in-law and a lying sister.”
Oh crap. Now was not the time to be talking trash about Max’s sister.
Before I could say a word, Max charged Patricio and knocked him to the ground. This time, it wasn’t funny or sexy or entertaining. It was fucking scary because I’d never seen Max so enraged.
He pulled back his fist and landed a punch right on Patricio’s neck.
Oh fuck. I lunged forward and grabbed Max’s hand as he cocked his fist. “Stop! You’re going to kill him!”
Diverted by my tugging, Max’s fist landed on Patricio’s shoulder while Patricio gasped for air.
“Max! Stop it!”
“You fucking wanna talk about my sister, you motherfucker?” Max landed another punch right on Patricio’s jaw. “You fucking used her! She was fucked up and you only made it worse.”
I could see the fear in Patricio’s eyes and white-hot rage in Max’s. I didn’t know what to do.
“Stop! I’m pregnant!” I belted out.
Max’s fist halted in midair, but he didn’t look at me. Panting, he glared down at Patricio, hate radiating from Max’s every pore.
“Max, did you hear me? I’m pregnant. And yes, it’s yours. So please get the hell off of him before you make more problems.” God knew we didn’t both need to end up in jail and with arrest records. I mean, what a complete bummer that would be for our kid. Don’t mommy and daddy look so nice in orange, sweetie? We can’t wait to hug you when you’re five once we’re free!
Panting, Max remained frozen over Patricio.
“Please,” I whispered with a controlled calm, “get off of him.”
Max slowly rose, and Patricio rolled to his stomach, still gasping.
I didn’t know exactly what I expected next, but Max turned away from me.
“Where are you going?” I asked, watching him head up the stairs. “Max, say something. I’m fucking pregnant.”
Without looking at me, he stopped mid-step. “That is very unfortunate.” He disappeared upstairs.
I felt my heart drop through a giant gaping hole in my chest and stomach and smash to the floor. I didn’t know what to say or do or…
Patricio, hacking for his life and grabbing at his neck, caught my attention.
I let out a breath and then kneeled down. “Are you okay? Can you breathe?”
He nodded. “I told you, Lily. The Coles are poison,” he whispered with a hoarse voice.
I bobbed my head. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Are you really pregnant?” he asked.
“Yes,” I whispered. “And please don’t call me a puttana this time, or I will stomp on your nuts.”
By the time we pulled up to the ER, about twenty minutes from Max’s house, Patricio was breathing again and insisted he would be fine. “I cannot afford the bad press right now.”