“What?” Mercedes says from her place as she selects another macaron. “You didn’t say I wasn’t allowed food. Just that I had to finish my tray.”
“And I’m sure it was you who finished it.”
She grins like the cat who swallowed the canary and shoves an entire macaron into her mouth. “These are delicious. Lois has outdone herself,” she says around her mouthful.
“You’re going to spoil your appetite for dinner.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ve been starved, remember?”
“Starved is quite the stretch.” I walk over to her, the dogs on my heels, and pick up a macaron.
“Not that one. Pistachio is my favorite. Take the vanilla. Those are boring.”
I raise my eyebrows and swallow the pistachio macaron, not missing the look she gives me. “You’re something else, you know that?”
“Thank you.”
“Most people would not take that as a compliment.”
“I’m not most people.” She grins up at me, and it’s as if the woman I left here this morning is a distant memory. She's distracting herself. The dogs. The food. The magazine. I won’t have that.
“Why are you here, Mercedes?”
Her expression falters momentarily but then her eyes narrow. “What? Can’t stand to see me happy?”
“Are you happy?”
She shrugs a shoulder.
“Why are you here?”
She wraps an arm around her middle and looks away. In her profile, I see the vulnerable girl she hides beneath her armor. The damaged one. The frightened one.
“Mercedes.” I touch her cheek and brush her hair away. “I’m not asking to hurt you.”
She looks down at her lap, and Pestilence jumps up onto the bed as if sensing this shift. He whines and lays his head in her hands. I wouldn’t normally allow them on the bed, but I think she needs this. She pets him, leans down to kiss the top of his head, then straightens back up.
“I’m dangerous,” she says, swiping the back of her hand across her face.
I remain silent, watching her. Waiting.
“What I did to that woman.” More tears. She still won’t look at me. “I didn’t mean to. But maybe, in a way, I did. I’m no good.”
“Silly little monster.” I tilt her face up. “You wanted to protect your family. You thought you were.”
She shakes her head. “And then there’s Ivy. I hate her. I hate her for taking Santi away from me.”
“Well, that you’re going to need to get over. She is your brother’s wife.”
The tears in her eyes freeze into ice. “Only for a limited time. Nine months. If he can stomach the idea of impregnating a Moreno. And that’s a big if.”
“Mercedes—”
“Can I get out of here now?”
“What if it happens? What if there’s a baby? Will you hate your brother’s child?”
She scrubs her face and pushes off the bed on the other side. “I need to get out of this room.” She turns to me. “Please, just for a little bit. Then you can lock me up again.”