Once I’m adequately convinced that Mateo isn’t going to come back inside, I make my way to the back as casually as I can for the camera’s benefit. I’m so relieved Mark didn’t come out there. I’m fairly certain Mateo wouldn’t recognize him, but he might get a little shifty—especially given Mark has developed a little crush on Mia, and currently despises Mateo—and Mateo would pick up on it. Whether he assumed the correct reason or the wrong one, it could just lead to problems. Best to keep them out of each other’s way.
I dig my Sal phone out of my pocket and tap out a quick text, telling Sal I can’t come over for lunch after all.
“What? Why not?” he sends back immediately.
“Mateo just showed up at my bakery. I don’t know why, but it’s unusual, so I just want to be cautious.”
“Shit. Is Mark cool?”
“Yeah, he stayed in the back so Mateo didn’t see him.”
“Well, fuck.”
“I know. Sorry,” I send back, along with a sad face emoji. “Let’s just cool it for a couple days and I’ll feel things out.”
He reads the message, but doesn’t respond. I wait, thinking maybe he got pulled away for something, but several minutes pass and nothing.
I guess he doesn’t have anything to say back.
Anxiety gathers in my gut because Sal always texts back. My thumbnail winds up between my teeth, and I stare at the back door, wondering for the first time in a while if this could get to be too much for him. Sneaking around certainly has its sucky parts for me, but since my norm is so much different from his, I think it sucks for him more. Being with me means he doesn’t get to integrate parts of his life that he always could before—having a girlfriend for however long one managed to stick was never a prison sentence. They could hang out with his friends, meet his parents if he felt so inclined, and—oh yeah—there was no risk of actual violence if their relationship was found out.
We joke about houses in the suburbs and the places we’ll go on our honeymoon, but we both know that’s all they can be—jokes.
As much as Sal insists he’s not going to get sick of doing this, I don’t think that’s realistic.
How long will it take before he gets so sick of it that he realizes he wants something easier and gives up altogether?
Chapter Twenty Five
Spring wraps up rather drearily with things returning to normal at home. Unfortunately I was right about Mateo getting more militant about literally everything, and he started noticing every single dinner I missed. After the third, I caught him eyeing me with his fingers steepled, a telltale sign that he’s deep in thought, and my stomach churned so violently I told Sal I couldn’t skip dinners anymore.
Which has put a bit of a strain on things, because since Mateo’s surprise visit, I’ve been too worried about skipping out at the bakery, too. I did hire a new girl whose application Mateo approved, so I start giving myself a weekday off instead. Sal syncs his with mine, and now we spend one guaranteed day together, and sneak in as many shorter visits as we can.
It’s hard.
It’s really, really hard.
Things are great when we are together, it’s just not nearly enough, and toward the end of our time I always get bogged down thinking about how long it might be until we can spend another day together.
Summer brings new change: Vince and Mia graduate high school. Sal’s stress about his dad grows, but he doesn’t explain why. I assume it has something to do with my family, which makes me feel anxious. A new maid shows up at the house, I guess to replace Elise since she’s leaving with Adrian soon. This new girl is pretty; physically a little reminiscent of Mia, but then she opens her mouth and all parallels completely die.
I don’t especially like her.
Mateo does.
He swaps her out for Cherie to help out with Sunday dinner service. She tries to befriend Mia for some weird reason. Now she’s trying to connive her way into his bed.
I guess that’s not very charitable, but there’s something about her I just don’t trust. It doesn’t help that she upsets Mia—and sparks some sort of tiff between her and Mateo—literally the first week she shows up.
After the first exhausting, dramatic Sunday night dinner with stupid Meg in the picture, I retire to my room early and feel sad about life. I decide to head to the bathroom so I can text Sal, but I don’t want to text him, I want to see him.
Sitting down on the edge of my huge tub, I stare at my messages, debating what to say. I’m so tired and frustrated. Family dinner zapped all my energy, everyone was weird. I just want to see my damn boyfriend. Is that so much to ask?