Dios, she would never forget the day her mami had sat her down at the familia dinner table. Her mami’s face shadowed with remorse. Brown eyes shiny with unshed tears. Her hands twisting with unease, afraid of how her baby girl would react.
The news of Alejandro’s new wife had hit her like an unexpected backdraft, a whoosh of heated air and flames blowing over her. Incinerating her silly adolescent dreams and young love until they were nothing but a pile of smoke-tinged ashes.
Not that Alejandro needed to know how decimated his actions had left her. Or the errant choices she’d made in the ensuing years.
Her days of self-sabotage, of unwittingly holding herself back, were over. She had her eyes on the prize now. On the future. Not the past.
“Yeah, well, get used to that meddling and hovering,” she warned him, scooting a little closer to peer at his injury. “If you’re stuck here while you convalesce and get back on your feet, odds are that’ll be at least a couple months. Longer if you’re hardheaded and don’t take care of yourself or follow your doctor’s orders. Like I’m guessing you haven’t been?”
The sardonic twist of his lips was answer enough.
“Thought so,” she muttered.
“Believe me, I’m not pleased about having to drop or postpone my bookings for the next few months. I should be enjoying Belize. Not cooped up here. And after my mother’s move today, I am all for doing whatever it takes to speed up my recovery and get the hell out of here.”
Of course, he was. Leaving “the Rock” had always been his goal. She’d simply thought he meant to eventually return, and not by force.
Her mistake.
“That’s news I’m sure your doctor will approve of.” Opening the first kit, Anamaría set a handful of cotton balls on the lid, adding medical tape and gauge to the supplies. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with. That way we can make sure you’re back out there snapping the next Alejandro Miranda award-winning photograph as soon as possible.”
“So, you heard about those…the awards?” he clarified when she tilted her head in confusion.
“Por favor.” She rolled her eyes at his failed attempt at modesty. “The way news travels around this island? In our comunidad? Who didn’t hear, whether they wanted to or not?”
He waved off her back-handed praise, but his lips curved in a cocky tilt she would have tickled into a howl of laughter in the past. Not now though.
“I’m surprised they didn’t hold a freaking parade,” she went on. “Although it probably would have been awkward when the guest of honor didn’t bother showing.”
His playful grin dissolved at her retort.
His lips pressed together in a tight line and rubbed a hand at the scruff on his cheeks, clearly uncomfortable.
A sliver of guilt for her rudeness pricked her conscience. A bigger person would congratulate him on his success. Compliment his magazine covers, maybe gush over the cinematic images he’d taken across the globe.
She wanted to be that kind of ex. Given a little more time to get used to having him home, grudgingly, she might get there. Maybe. At least she could pretend better.
Bending her head, she concentrated on carefully removing the medical tape that attached a piece of gauze around one of the pin sites.
“How ‘bout we try this again,” she suggested. “Truthfully, how’s your pain?”
A puff of warm breath teased the tendrils of hair that had escaped her ponytail as Alejandro blew out a weighty sigh. “Is there some kind of doctor-patient confidentiality? I have a rep to protect.”
“Smart ass,” she grumbled, shooting him a droll glance before pulling back another piece of medical tape. “Come on, ‘fess up or I can’t help you properly.”
“Fine. But my mom worries enough as it is, so whatever we don’t have to tell her, let’s keep it that way.” He waited for her nod before continuing. “It’s holding steady at a seven.”
Ten minutes later, Señora Miranda had yet to return with Alejandro’s snack. His mood had lightened based on his quip remarks, and Anamaría had finished cleaning each of the pin sites, relieved to find most of them healing well. One at the top of his shin was a little more tender than the others, not that his tough guy act had let him admit it. She’d had to pester him for info. About that and his refusal to take stronger pain relievers.
“You have got to stay on top of your meds,” she warned him. Not for the first time. His hardheaded nature had failed to mellow with maturity. Reminding herself to stay in paramedic mode was all that kept her from screaming in frustration. “If you don’t, you’re only chasing the pain and the medicine won’t be able to do its job. It’s basic pain management 101.”
“I appreciate the advice. You have a remarkable bedside manner.”
“Stop it,” she grumbled, fully aware his teasing was a diversionary tactic.
Head tipped back to rest against the wall again, he eyed her under hooded lids. “I’m sure all the people you help send your boss glowing reviews. Am I right?”
“My Captain,” she corrected with a reproachful glare. “And flattery won’t stop me from lecturing you.”
He flashed her another tired grin, this one tinged with chagrin because he knew he’d been caught.
“Or stop me from siccing your mom on you if necessary.” So much for remaining impersonal.
Where was his mami anyway?
Anamaría would lay money on odds that the older woman was purposefully taking her time grilling that sandwich, intent on leaving them alone in the bedroom as long as possible. My how times had changed. In many ways.
“Hey now, play fair,” he complained, nudging her knee with his fingers.
Irked by his ability to so easily fall back into the banter they had once shared, pecking away at her steadfast resolve to keep him at a distance, Anamaría tugged off her medical gloves with a
