“How are you coping?” she asks, sympathy blazing in her dark brown eyes.
I shrug. “Trying to survive each day as it comes.”
She sighs. “I heard your papá’s funeral was last week, but I’m not sure if that’s true.” Tears glisten in her eyes, but she doesn’t allow them to fall as she grabs my hand and squeezes. “I’m so sorry you weren’t able to attend.”
I shake my head, unable to dwell on that right now. All the complicated emotions that have hit me these past few weeks make it impossible to dwell on any too long, as I know I’ll drown in grief if I let it take over.
“Have you heard any news about Lila?”
She shakes her head. “No, it’s difficult for me to find out anything from the men.” Her brow pulls together. “Most of them fear Adrik.”
I’m not surprised. The man is a maniac.
I grab another chip and dip it in Mariana’s famous homemade salsa. “I hate him.”
“Hate who?”
That voice makes me tense as I turn rigid on the stool, knowing that his timing couldn’t have been worse.
Mariana’s face has gone pale as she turns around to check the nachos are cooking well in the oven.
“It’s not important,” I murmur.
He takes a seat next to me and I can feel his eyes burning a hole right through me. If my calculations are correct, he’s home early. Or perhaps he’s always back this time but doesn’t come up to the bedroom until a bit later.
“What have you made for dinner?” he asks, never once taking his eyes off of me.
Mariana clears her throat. “Nachos, it’s Eliza’s favorite.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him shake his head disapprovingly. “Not very nutritious, is it?”
I glance at him. “Yes, there’s the homemade tomato salsa and the guacamole, both full of nutrition.”
He chuckles. “And the chips and cheese?”
I shrug. “Delicious.”
“How are you enjoying your newfound freedom?” he asks, hazel eyes searching mine.
“It’s only been about twenty minutes, but it’s nice to be out of that room,” I say, turning away from him and focusing on Mariana as she makes herself busy.
There’s a complete change in atmosphere since he walked in, as if he has the ability to turn the air frosty just by stepping inside it.
“I will eat with you,” he says.
I wish he wouldn’t. “Why did you let me out of the room?” I look at him then.
He arches a brow. “Would you prefer I leave you locked in a bedroom for the rest of your life?”
I shake my head. “No, it’s just what I expected.”
Silence coils through the room as Mariana pulls out the freshly cooked nachos. Adrik doesn’t say anything more about my expectation of being locked in the room for the rest of my life.
“Food is ready. Would you like it served in the dining room?” Mariana asks, her attention fixed on Adrik.
Adrik shakes his head. “No, we’ll eat here.”
I’m relieved that he doesn’t intend to force me to sit at my family’s dining table across from him while we eat nachos. Since Papá died, I haven’t stepped foot in that room and can’t imagine doing so, especially not with Adrik.