Beside her, Luis groaned. ‘I was young and naive—’
‘What happened?’
She twisted towards him. Her pulse was dancing, and she knew that her pleasure at hearing about his life was all over her face, but just for once she didn’t feel the need to hide her emotions.
He shook his head. ‘I must have been about sixteen. My grandparents were having a party, and all the little old ladies were drinking cocktails, one after another. Bas and I thought they must be harmless, so we had one, and then two, three—’ He grimaced. ‘Harmless! I don’t think I’ve ever felt so ill!’
‘Were you sick?’
Shuddering, he shook his head. ‘No. But neither of us could stand up, let alone speak. In the end we had to go to bed.’
His father laughed. ‘What my son is failing to mention is that they went to bed at half past eight, and the bed in question belonged to my parents’ elderly mastiffs.’
Cristina burst out laughing. ‘I can’t believe you slept in a dogs’ bed.’
‘It was only the once.’ Sofia smiled at her son affectionately. ‘Luis has always been cautious. Even when he was a little boy he liked to do things properly, to do the right thing. And nothing’s changed—has it, Agusto?’
There was a short, strained silence, and Cristina could almost feel the atmosphere around the table shift.
‘He’s a very good son,’ Agusto said stiffly. ‘But I’m not sure if deliberately living on the other side of the world from your family can ever really be described as doing “the right thing”—’
‘Agusto…’ Sofia said softly, but Luis interrupted her.
‘It’s fine, Mamá.’ He met his father’s gaze. ‘Papá, I know you’re upset with me, and I totally understand why you feel the way you do. But you have to understand and accept that my life is in California now.’
He spoke quietly, but with calm determination, and Cristina knew that this was not the first time he’d had this conversation with his father. Nor, judging by the glint in Agusto’s eyes, would it be the last.
Her hunch was quickly confirmed as the older man said stubbornly, ‘But that’s just it. I don’t understand. This is your home, Luis. Your life should be here. You have a family who loves you and needs you.’ He frowned. ‘And a legacy that has—’
Cristina felt her pulse jump as abruptly Luis pulled his hand free of hers.
‘Ah, now we’re getting to the truth.’
Luis drew a breath. He was deliberately stoking his anger, but beneath it he could already feel the old familiar guilt rising inside him.
Desperately he tried to hang on to his fury. ‘It’s not actually about family at all and it never has been. It’s about the business.’
‘They’re one and the same.’
Despite having heard them since he was old enough to understand, his father’s words still had the power to catch him off guard—but it was the sadness in Agusto’s voice that made him
grip the edges of the table.
Wincing inwardly, he shook his head. ‘Not to me.’
Watching his father’s shoulders slump, he felt a dull ache spread through his chest.
‘I’m an old man, Luis. I can’t run the business for ever.’
Hating himself, he reached over and gripped Agusto’s arm. ‘I know. But, Papá, we’ve been over this a hundred times, and each time I’ve given you my answer—’
His father shook his head. ‘No. What you’ve given me is an excuse, Luis, and I don’t understand why you feel that way. But I will accept it.’ Lifting his hand, he patted his son’s hand. ‘And your mother’s right. You are a good son, and we both love you very much. We’re proud of what you’ve achieved.’
‘I know. And I love coming to visit.’ Frowning, he turned to his mother. ‘Sorry, Mamá.’
‘I’m sorry too, cariño.’
Sofia seemed more resigned than anything else, Cristina thought. No doubt she was used to it—and, given how close Luis and his father were, it probably sounded worse that it had seemed to her.