Diego and I sat down in the living room with plates of pizza on our laps, water bottles on the coffee table.
“So...Maeve…” Diego folded his slice in half and held it poised at his mouth. “She’s prettier than ever, huh?”
Shifting, uncomfortable, I shrugged. “Yeah. Hadn’t thought a lot about it.”
“You fucking liar. The tension between the two of you is thicker than your skull. Something’s either going on, or you really want it to be.”
“You’re the one who wrote a song for her. You’re calling her pretty and touching her face like you’re close or something.” I sounded like an insolent child, but hell, I was kind of feeling that way.
Diego tossed his pizza down on his plate, leveling a serious look at me. “Santi...I had a crush on that woman five years ago. Scratch that—girl. We were both teenagers. She said no, I got over it. Dad would tan my hide if I hadn’t.”
Eli Garza’s code of conduct:You want a woman, you fight for her. She says no, you take that as her final answer.
“Let’s drop it.” My lies were racking up, and I wondered why the hell was I lying in the first place. Maeve was mine. I wasn’t ashamed. I wanted every-fucking-body to know. But Diego was fresh from rehab, and no matter what he said, I felt the need to tread carefully around him, at least until I got a better feel of where his head was.
We moved on, Diego telling me about the Camaro our pops was working on. He planned to go into the shop tomorrow and help the old man out. Needed to get his hands dirty.
It was old times.Realold times, before the fame and money and drugs. We were just two brothers, eating pizza and talking cars. Something like peace settled over me. It wasn’t perfect, but I thought it just might be okay. Not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon.