She tilts her head. “Is that different?”
“Very much so. Not only does Xavier have to be physically in shape, but he also has to be able to follow a script and put on a show for the fans. Fighters just step into the ring and focus on inflicting physical pain on their opponents. Wrestling . . . it’s a mixture of physicality and acting.”
“Quinn told me you’re a part of the show now. Does that mean, you’ll have to fight someone in the ring? You know your father will go ballistic if he sees that on TV.”
“I’m not trained for that, so that will probably never happen—” Something she said just registers in my brain. “Are you saying Father watches Tension?”
“Every time it’s on,” she confirms. “He told me it gives him peace of mind to catch glimpses of you. He worries about your safety.”
“I didn’t know he did that. He hates wrestling.”
She reaches over and lays her hand on top of mine on the table. “That might be true, but he loves you even though it doesn’t feel that way to you at times. He’s harsh, and I’m in no way condoning his actions toward how he was trying to force you to live your life, but I do understand his grief about missing his only daughter. I don’t know what I would ever do if Quinn wasn’t speaking to me.”
“I don’t think that would ever happen. Quinn loves you too much.”
“At one time, you loved your father, too.”
“I still love him. I’m just mad at him right now.”
“Then, promise me, when you’re both ready to let your anger go, you’ll allow him an opportunity to apologize to you. Simon is a good man, but it’s hard for him to see that he’s not always right about things. He’s been that way since we were kids. When he saw that I was never going to bend to his will, he eventually gave in and stopped trying to change me. He learned to love my crazy ways even if he didn’t fully understand them.”
“You think that will happen between us? Right now, I feel like he hates me for running out on Jorge and for embarrassing the family.”
Aunt Dee smiles. “He loves you, sweet girl, and love always conquers everything.”
Quinn comes bouncing in the room, wearing a work uniform that says Property of Larry’s. “Ready, Anna?”
“Yeah.” I push myself out of my seat at the table and stretch my arms over my head, attempting to ease the stiffness in my back from sleeping on the hardwood floor last night. “Can I ask for a favor before we go?”
“Anything,” Quinn answers instantly.
“Can I borrow the air mattress I slept on while I was here?”
Quinn furrows her brow. “Sure, but why do you need it?”
At first, I think about telling her the truth—that Xavier couldn’t bring himself to sleep in his mother’s bed or on the couch in the living room because his mother had died on it—but I decide to keep Xavier’s heartbreaking past to myself.
“The bed at the house is like sleeping on the floor. The air mattress is much more comfortable.”
“Okay. Let me grab it out of the closet for you.” She dashes off and then returns with the portable bed and the sheets and blankets that I used on it. “I figured you might need these, too, since I know they fit the mattress pretty well.”
I wrap my arms around everything. “Thank you. This will help so much.”
Quinn smiles. “Awesome. Now, let’s get on the road before I’m late, and Andy jumps all over my ass.”
I laugh as I follow her out the door, and I throw a good-bye to Aunt Dee over my shoulder.
We load the stuff into her trunk while she prattles on about Larry’s. “Things are so much better since Alice’s bitchy ass has been fired. Andy promoted me to shift supervisor. Can you believe that? He says he knows he can count on me.”
“Congratulations! That’s awesome news.”
“Thanks. The extra money has really come at a good time. Paying for a wedding is expensive.”
We hop in the car and the mention of the cost of what it takes to get married causes the corners of my mouth to pull down. Father sank a pretty penny into the wedding he and Mother were planning for Jorge and me, and that makes me feel guilty because my family doesn’t exactly have a lot of money to spare.
She fires up the car. “Uh-oh. What’s wrong, Anna?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” I forgot how well she could read me.
“I call bullshit on that one,” she throws back at me as she pulls out onto the road. “I know that look. That beautiful face of yours is incapable of disguising sadness, especially those green eyes. They are, as people say, the windows to your soul.”
I turn to stare out the window in an attempt to hide my emotions from her, but the moment I do, something catches my eye and causes my jaw to drop open.
“Xavier?” I whisper his name.
“He’s the problem?”
“No . . . yes . . .” I tumble over my own words, not realizing I said it out loud. “I mean, I see him.”
“Where?” She gasps when I’m sure she spots the same scene I’m witnessing in front of my very eyes. “Oh, hell no.”