Come What May - L.K. Farlow Page 0,38

Mateo insists.

His mother stares him down. “And I told you to search your heart.”

I scoot my chair back from the table and stand. “I think… I’m going to go. It was so nice to meet you, Lety. Thank you for a wonderful dinner.” I’m already speed-walking toward the door.

“Seraphine!” Mateo yells after me.

“See you tomorrow. Thanks. Again.” I swing the door open and make my escape.

Chapter Seventeen

Mateo

My mother’s words after Seraphine fled last night have been on instant replay in my mind. ‘You make this right, Mate!’ Like I’m the one who sent her running with talks of pregnancy and baby names.

Crazier still—my entire family sided with her. Even Desi. Aren’t teen girls supposed to be stepmom averse?

They’re right though—just not in the way they think. I need to make sure Seraphine understands that while my family is crazy, I am not.

The question is how?

Truthfully, I don’t have a clue. She ignored my phone call and texts last night. But maybe breakfast this morning will soften her up toward me?

With a sort-of plan in place, I hop into my truck, grab some breakfast sandwiches, and head to the shop.

Seraphine isn’t supposed to be here until eight, but I still find myself obsessively watching the clock. At five ‘til, there’s a knock and my heart soars, thinking it’s her.

“‘Morning, boss man,” Danton says when I unlock the door and let him in.

I grunt in reply, retreating back behind the counter.

“Who pissed in your cornflakes?” Rodger asks, walking in behind Danton.

“Lady troubles?” the younger man asks.

Another grunt.

“That’s a yes then.” He pauses and sniffs the air. “Do I smell sausage?”

“Yes, but it’s not for you.”

Rodger and Danton exchange knowing glances, while I yet again check the clock. It’s five after.

Maybe she’s in traffic?

The thought’s laughable. Dogwood doesn’t have traffic. Not unless you end up behind a tractor.

I try to keep busy, booting up the computer and printing tickets for the day, but it’s no use. My eyes keep wandering to the clock.

By fifteen after, I’m pacing the length of the shop. “Where is she?” I mumble under my breath, calling her for the second time this morning.

When I’m once again sent to voice mail, I’ve had enough. “Rodger!” I yell, and his head pops up from beneath the hood of the car he’s working on. “Watch the shop!”

“Where ya going?” Danton asks, like it’s any of his business.

“Out.”

“Eyes on your own engine,” Rodger commands the younger mechanic before refocusing his attention on me. “Go get her.”

“Huh? Who?”

He glares. “You know who.”

I don’t know why, maybe because I hate the thought of being so transparent, but I play dumb and give him a puzzled look.

Like the old badass he is, Rodger calls me on my shit. “We’ve got this covered. Go fix whatever you messed up with Seraphine.” He emphasizes her name.

“I… what… how?”

“You don’t get to be my age without picking up a little wisdom along the way.” He herds me toward the door. “Now, go fix it.”

“And leave the food!” Danton calls from one of the bays.

Rodger nods his agreement.

Not wanting to waste another second, I’m out the door, in my truck, and on my way to her.

I make it to her place in record time, sighing with relief when I see her RAV4 in the driveway. At least now, I know she’s here and not stranded on the side of the road somewhere.

My relief quickly gives way to frustration though. Her being here means she’s intentionally avoiding me. And that won’t do.

Before I can formulate a plan, I’m out of my truck, up the porch steps, and banging on her front door. “I know you’re here!” I holler, a sense of déjà vu overwhelming me.

I’m prepared to hunt down the spare key—again—when the door flies open, revealing a very distressed looking Seraphine.

“Why are you here?” she asks right as I ask, “Are you okay?”

“It’s not a good time.”

“Let me in, mariposita,” I say, realizing I mean it in more ways than one. I want into her home in this moment, but her heart, too.

She heaves out a longsuffering sigh and opens the door wide enough for me to enter.

I don’t waste any time, hauling her straight into my arms once she closes and locks the door behind me. “Talk to me,” I beg. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

She pushes against me for a brief moment before curling into me. I slide one arm behind her knees and lift her, cradling her to my chest. “Which room is