Island Affair (Keys to Love #1) - Priscilla Oliveras Page 0,110

the potential to outrun the pain of her loved ones’ disillusion with her. That unhealthy escape had almost worked in the past. But she refused to go that route again.

Desperation clawed at her chest. She wanted so badly to not undo the progress she had made with her family. Certain any explanation she gave would only confirm her ineptitude in their minds.

And yet lies would only tarnish and destroy. Doubts pushed her to spit out the truth and lay claim to her foolishness.

“Ric Montez. The real one.” She jabbed a hand toward the front of the house. “Is, as I’m sure you have already noted, a self-centered jerk I should have dumped months ago. A fact that was confirmed when he decided not to show up last Friday. A decision he didn’t share until I had already arrived. I knew Mom was excited to meet my boyfriend, and Dad—”

Sara took a tentative step toward her father, pleading with every cell in her body for him to understand. Instead she was met by the disappointment she had always feared from them. She spun away, shattered, to pace her agitation.

“We wanted this week to be a special celebration for Mom. No stress.” She wrung her hands, fear and shame driving her, dogging her steps back and forth in front of the sliding glass door. “The last thing I wanted was Mom worrying, thinking I can’t get my life together. I can. I am. It’s just—anyway. Rather than admit I’d been stood up and . . . and put a damper on Mom’s excitement . . . I hired Luis as my pretend boyfriend.”

“What?!”

“No shit!”

“Unbelievable.”

The cacophony of responses from her mother and siblings halted Sara’s pacing. But when Luis reared back as if she had slapped him, Sara immediately realized her blunder.

“Luis, I didn’t mean—”

He gave a brusque shake of his head and she broke off. His nostrils flared. Pain flashed in his eyes, followed quickly by disdain. A mask of stoicism slipped into place, hardening his chiseled features.

Hands fisted at his sides, back and shoulders erect as if he were facing his captain, Luis addressed her parents. “Ruth, Charles, my sincere apologies for the part I played in this fiasco. I hope you can believe me when I say that it has been a true pleasure meeting you, and the rest of your family.” He dipped his head toward the others.

“Son, it’s not clear why—”

“Excuse the interruption, sir,” Luis told her father. “The why of all this is not mine to tell. Since it doesn’t appear that my services are needed here anymore, I will grab my things and head out.” Laying a hand on his chest, he gave her mom a slight bow. “Ruth, I sincerely admire your tenacity and new outlook on life. I wish you well.”

Then, as she murmured a forlorn, “Thank you,” Luis left the room. Without sparing Sara a single glance.

He rounded the banister in the foyer, where he stopped, head bowed, his large hand squeezing the curving balustrade.

Sara waited, breath trapped in her lungs. Praying he would look at her. Give her a sliver of hope that there was a chance to make things right between them.

Instead, he disappeared up the steps.

Eyes burning with unshed tears, she buried her face in her hands.

“Oh, sweetheart,” her mother crooned. Moments later, her skinny arms were around Sara, offering comfort. “Honey, this doesn’t make any sense.”

Ashamed at how badly she had bungled her explanation, cheapening what she and Luis had shared, Sara welcomed her mother’s embrace.

“I know it doesn’t!” Tears threatening, she scrubbed at her eyes, desperate to make things right. Afraid she couldn’t.

“Why, sweetie?”

“I just, I thought—” Sara broke off on a shuddering sob. “Because—”

“Because she made a poor decision.”

Sara cringed at her sister’s blunt truth.

“Based on the fact that many of us—myself included,” Robin continued. “Have not taken her or her career seriously.”

Shocked by her sister’s support, Sara swiped at her tears, then tentatively met Robin’s gaze. Her smug, you-know-I’m-right expression had never made Sara feel particularly loved. Until now.

“Frankly,” Robin continued in her usual brusque delivery. “I don’t know why you’re still down here. You should be upstairs, working things out with the guy who spent the last five days helping all of us”—she held up her pointer finger, circling it to indicate the entire room—“feel more like a family and less like an institution. Am I right? Or am I right?”

“I don’t kno—”

“That was a rhetorical question,” Robin interrupted Sara, her lips curved in a