And Patricio had shown me what he was made of. I mean, the guy called me a whore and wouldn’t even give me the benefit of the doubt. He wouldn’t return my calls, he’d lied to his family, and now he wanted to talk reconciliation?
Both men had an ugly side, and I couldn’t accept either of what I’d just seen.
“I should go now,” I said.
“Stay for breakfast? You do not want to miss my mother’s fresh hot chocolate. Please. And then I won’t bother you again.”
My mouth watered.
“Porfavore?” he batted his green eyes. “If not for us, then for the baby. I’m sure it’s hungry.”
I narrowed my eyes. Low blow. But it worked. “Okay. I’ll stay.”
The rest of Patricio’s family showed up shortly after he and I talked. I had to admit their banter—mostly in Italian and borderline comical when the hand gestures came into play—had given me a lift and a welcomed distraction from my dark as hell mood.
His mother, who spoke the best English out of all of them, enjoyed telling me about Patricio’s pet duck when he was little. Apparently, his older brother’s dog ate it, which had sparked a lifelong feud. Then she and his father squabbled about some little detail of the story, but even that made me chuckle. Everyone roasted each other, but I didn’t sense any lack of love. As for breakfast, some cookie type of thing with powdered sugar and chocolate drizzled on top went perfectly with the most delicious coco ever. I seriously didn’t understand how they were all of a normal weight and still ate like this.
After the end of the meal, I helped with dishes and then said my goodbyes.
“You come back tomorrow for lunch, si?” his mother asked as I removed my apron and folded the dishtowel while the children—ages eight to fifteen—played soccer in the yard and the men argued about what attraction to see first.
I looked at Patricio, feeling awkward.
“Lily has to work tomorrow, but she will try, Mama,” Patricio interjected on my behalf.
“Then when will we see you again? We must talk about the wedding. And soon, eh. Very soon!” She turned and smacked Patricio’s arm. I took that to mean that she wasn’t happy about him knocking me up before the wedding. Of course, he hadn’t knocked me up, and we weren’t getting married, so I took that as my cue. “Bye, all. It was a pleasure.” I scrambled out of there as fast as I could, wanting nothing more than to take a breath.
Let Patricio deal with his family and his lies. I had to worry about me now.
I didn’t know what Max had to do or give up to convince his mother to drop the charges, but she had. I’d gotten the news from Mr. Krane first thing Monday morning. It would’ve been great to have heard from Max, too, with a great explanation for his behavior or begging forgiveness, but that didn’t happen either.
A week went by and not a moment passed when I didn’t think of calling or texting him. And while my aching heart wanted to deny what had happened, my aching head knew it was true. So though I didn’t want to eat, I ate. Though I didn’t want to get out of bed, I got out of bed. I carried on. Something about having my heart crushed by Max this time around felt vastly different than before. This time, I had someone else to think about. A tiny life who, for all I knew, was absorbing every miserable emotion I felt. But the one thing I was determined to overcome was this sense that I’d done something wrong. If I’d only been pretty enough or smart enough, maybe Max would’ve loved me more and wanted this. If I’d tried harder and he loved me more, he would’ve overcome his affliction.
Bull crap.
This time, I wasn’t going to allow the mental cancer to hurt me or to be carried on to my child. I had to fight.
“Lily, so nice to see you.” Dr. Monroe held open the door to her office. I instantly felt more relaxed—the walk through her garden, the smell of vanilla and cinnamon in her tiny waiting room. Peaceful.
“Thanks for making time.” I took a seat in front of the window overlooking the garden, and she took her usual seat across from me.
“No thanks required. That’s what I’m here for. So…what’s been happening?”
I looked down at my favorite black running shoes, the ones I’d worn the first time Max and I raced each other. He’d challenged me to run against him, the prize being a business trip to Milan and a Babs Levine fashion show. I’d played dirty and won, but that weekend had ended up being so much more than a trip to Italy. It had been the beginning of something wonderful and ugly and painful and beautiful. It had been the beginning of me and Max.
“So?” Dr. Monroe prodded.
I tugged down on the hem of my gray running shorts. Yep, I totally planned to sprint right after this. “Uh, yeah. Remember when you said I needed to end things with Maxwell Cole and use my tenacity on myself?”
She smiled with affection. “I didn’t say you should end things. I merely pointed out that you had not had closure. But how did everything work out?”
“Long story short, he knocked me up and ran for the hills.”
Dr. Monroe’s jaw dropped.
Nice. Even she’s shocked.