Unabashedly Yours : An office romance

Book 2: The Yellow Meadows Series

by Amy Oliveira

Genres: Contemporary Romance; New Adult Romance; Small-town Romance; Workplace Romance; LGBT & Pride; office romance; age gap; Grumpy and Sunshine

Synopsis

I close my long fingers around her delicate ankle, “You need to get a life, Sabrina.”

 

Darren:

I like control, sue me. In fact, don't, it usually works the other way around.

I have to say, my life is on tracks:

✓ I make decent money with a job I love,

✓ my house looks good

✓ I have spare to help Ma.

 Well, the pink-haired devil begs to differ.  

 My assistant, Sabrina Rubio, (a.k.a., the bane of my existence) has an opinion about everything, particularly about my dating life. She thinks I can fall in love just like those men in the romance books she devours. But that's one more thing we have to disagree.

Sabrina can call me a grumpy boss as much as she likes. There will be no office flirting going on at number 34, Main Street - Yellow Meadows.

 Between her steamy romance books and her crass humour, I'm pretty sure her main goal is to drive me insane.

 

 Sabrina:

His lips curls inside his mouth, nostrils flare. Janey, I made him angry, didn't I?

Oops.

 

*This sweet romantic comedy is an absolute treat for fans of Sally Thorne's THE HATING GAME, Jo Watson's LOVE TO HATE YOU or Lucy Score's BY A THREAD.

Or for anyone who's looking for a spicy new book, an opinionated heroine, a grumpy and protective hero. Fighting as foreplay and the beloved enemy to lovers trope.

Release date: November 11, 2020

Publisher: Amy Oliveira

Print pages: 571

Content advisory: Sexual content.

Sample

Darren

I check my watch and I check again to be sure I am not wrong. I know I’m not, but I do it anyway because it’s always important to be right. I’m crossing the street with purpose in my step while watching my favourite girl in the world all alone sitting on a half wall, legs dangling and a red bag on her back.

I step on the path, my frame making a shadow over her, she cranes her neck up to look at me with a beaming smile. I can’t stop myself. I look down at my watch again.

“I’m five minutes late.”

“I don’t mind,” she tells me bright blue eyes shining.

“I do. How come it’s so empty?”

“All the kids are gone.” She jumps from the wall and adjusts her backpack. “Let’s go.”

“Where the hell are your teachers?”

I look to London and she wrinkles her nose at me, then, looking down at her shoes she refuses to answer.

I don’t like it.

I don’t like it at all.

With something stuck in my throat, I grunt a strangled sound. Her expression says enough to me, I face the stone steps leading to the School’s main building. My legs eat the pavement and a jaded huff from the girl tells me London is following my steps.

Don’t start on me, telling me it isn’t a big deal. I’m annoyed and that won’t change until I get this particular problem sorted. I know it’s three in the afternoon in a good neighbourhood right in the middle of Yellow Meadows. London isn’t in any kind of danger. Still, a teacher surely should stay behind to be sure every pupil found their way home. Five fucking minutes! What can be so important they have to run off instead of assuring the well-being of their students?

London is right on my heels, working two fast steps to match my long ones. With a side look, I see her furrowed eyebrows directed to me, her mouth in a crisp thin line. I turn again to face the building right in front of the double glass doors to the administration entrance, her blue skirt and tie combo in my perimetrical vision.

“Darren, it’s fine. Let’s go.” I hear her hush tones.

I grunt, that is a new thing for her. London is eleven, just a couple of months shy of twelve, the only Darren she has ever met is the nice one. The one who loves her beyond words. I’m never angry around her, I never speak loudly, I’m soft as a lamb.

But this shit right here? It makes me angry as fuck.

“Can we go home?” London asks again trailing a little behind.

“You can wait here,” I tell her. Sure, it would better if she isn’t there, I can be meaner.

London steps in front of me making me stop suddenly.

“Stop,” she orders, looking up to me in fierceness. “I would like to go home now.” Crossing the little arms in front of her body.

I hold a laugh. She’s very much her mother’s daughter, but I grew up with this kind of bullshit, therefore I’m immune.

“Kid,” I sigh, “I’m having a quick chat with your teachers, alright? Just wait for me here.”

London narrows her eyes at me. I’m bullshitting the life of her now, I wonder if she’s old enough to get it.

“What do you have to talk to my teacher about?”

“Adult stuff.”

She scoffs. Damn, London is getting smart.

I circle around her, my hand closes over the door handle and I turn my head a little, just to see over my shoulder. I dip my chin at her, she nods. I try to say a million things, I know she doesn’t want me to talk to her teacher, still, she must understand I must. We talk with our eyes and she gets my meaning; I helped raise her, but in many ways, she raised me too.

London’s mother, is my closest friend, Ellis. We, Ellis, and our other friend Thad were just turned sixteen when London came to our lives. I changed her dirty nappies, and I put her to sleep. I remember her first words, I was there to watch her first steps. But London was also there for us, patient as ever, while we made many mistakes. She’s the most patient person in the world, she had to carry in her very little bony shoulders the responsibility of raising three little shitheads, so we could be good enough to care for her.

I like to think we did well. She’s great, so I know we did well.

And while I am on this, while I’m feeling very protective towards this amazing child who happens to be my goddaughter, to add salt to my wound is how the rest of this town is full of good for nothing gossips.  They live to talk behind Ellis’ back. Bad, gross, sexist things. Things that have my neck pulsing.

Last week, Ellis, who god knows has the thickest skin known to men, shared a little tale about how the people at school were insinuating she had no money to get London a new backpack.

Breathe in and out, Darren.

I will buy thousands of fucking backpacks if that’s what London needs. And sure, Ellis dealt the way Ellis dealt with everything, sarcastically, but that didn’t stop me from seeing fucking red.

I promised myself—and Ellis—I wasn’t going to say anything to the teachers, to the other mothers or the shitheads crawling around town. I held my tongue most days.

But now? If felt big to me seeing London alone at the curb because of my five-minute mistake. It’s wrong. The care I have for her, she deserves from everybody else too, especially people who were there to protect her.

Once inside, I’m not sure where exactly to go, but once I step fully in and close a door, I hear people talking to my left and I follow the sound. Three doors down, I push open a classroom to find two women, one older and one younger, chatting while taking down kids’ art work from the walls. I don’t pay attention to what they’re saying, they won’t stop talking for a minute, giggling between breaths.

I clear my throat. Ahem.

The closest to me is the young looking one. She stiffens, looking me up and down, but it’s the older one holding a bunch of peacock drawings who asks, “Hi, can I help you?”

“Is any of you London Montgomery’s teacher?”

They share a look and I feel my ears prickling. The way their eyes dart to one another is suspicious as fuck, like they’re agreeing to a silent pact right in front of me.

“Mrs. Byrne left,” she tells me.

I nod slowly. “And are you aware that London was waiting outside alone?”

Again, they share a look. They share a fucking look and it annoys the life out of me. I narrow my eyes at the closest one. Dark hair in a high ponytail, long eyelashes. Floral skirt and lavender jumper on top. “Are you Julianne McCarthy?” I ask.

Julianne nods quickly. I remember her from when she was a kid, she’s definitely just fresh out of college. I know her mother too, a snobby little bitch. Julianne wasn’t much better, not as bitter, but just like her mother she loves to run her mouth.

“Alright, Julianne, have you seen my eleven-year-old alone in front of the gates?”

“Yours?” Juliane asks.

Of course, that would be the part she’s interested in. Christ, give me patience. The fact that one of her students was alone in front of the gates with no care whatsoever doesn’t tickle her interest or the older woman with her. I have no will to explain myself. London isn’t biologically mine, but she is mine as they come.

“Aren’t you worried she was there by herself?”

“It’s three o’clock,” chimed in the one by the back.

I turn to look at her. “Yes, that’s kid snatcher time.”

Look, I know I’m just being a prick for the fun of it, alright? London’s fine, she was only alone for five minutes, but I’m in a mood and it just doesn’t sit right with me that those two were happy chatting inside while an eleven-year-old was alone out there. So yeah, I’m going to lay thick. So thick this whole school will think twice before using their dirty mouths to talk about the Montgomery girls.

“I’m not comfortable with you two having a little gossip here when kids are left alone in front of the school,” I inform them with my icy tone. “I bet most parents wouldn’t be impressed. Mrs Byrne shouldn’t have left without making sure all her students were safe.”

Julianne starts nodding, the older woman in the back is the one who replies me with a condescending tone I don’t care for. “Yes, that’s right. Mrs. Byrne shouldn’t have left. We’ll have a chat with her.”

I scoff. I know they won’t. “That’s quite alright for now, but you’re doing a disservice not paying attention to this kind of thing.”

Julianne then has the cheek to say: “Her mam is so flexible. I doubt would be a problem.”

Wrong thing to say.

Wrong fucking thing.

“Well, I’m telling you it is a problem.” My voice is clipped and that shiver down her spine? That’s the desired effect.

“I’m sorry…” Julianne starts but the old bat at the back barely lets the word out of her mouth and she interrupts Julianne.

“We ask the parents and guardians be on time…”

Bullshit.

“Five minutes is hardly a delay. You could have brought her in with you. Or at least one you could stay behind.”

“It was five minutes,” says old bat.

“Yes, indeed. Five minutes.”

I stare her down with disgust, if Julianne annoys me, people like old bat often have me in hives.

“London is not going to be left alone anymore, do you understand? It’s not right and you know it. I don’t want to hear a word about Ellis Montgomery coming out your filthy mouth, get me? Or you’ll have me as an enemy and that will be rather unpleasant.” I shake my head to the old bat and with a look to the pathetic form of Julianne I turn on my heels.

“I will be informing all parents what’s the school policy for a five-minute delay,” I tell them over my shoulder.

And with that, I leave. Eating the space with long strides, my jaw still ticking in anger. Leaving Primary School students alone waiting outside isn’t right anyway, but of course the anger beaming off me is an accumulative of many micro incidents. Julianne’s last comment didn’t help.

London’s waiting outside, arms crossed in front of her chest, with a curt nod I let her know we’re on the move, and she quickly follows me.

“So how was it?” She asks.

“It’s fine. Just a chat, I told you.”

I see she’s almost jogging to keep up and I slow my pace. Out of the school, we head to the parking lot, my car is the only one left. I unlock the doors, London throws herself in, I wait for the click of her seatbelt and I start driving off.

“Did they point out the irony of you leaving me alone to ask them never leave me alone?” she asks looking out of her side window.

I curl my lips. “No.”

“Dummies.”

I dare to look at her for just a second, and smile. They are dummies.

“Well, they should make sure all kids are safe,” I repeat my line.

“It was five minutes.”

I shrug. “It doesn’t matter.”

I see the moment when London turns to me, I thought she would be more upset since she was so adamant of me not going to talk to the teachers, but her little smile tells me the opposite.

“I know someone’s always coming for me. I don’t worry.”

Smart girl.

I nod, stopping slowly at the traffic lights. “That’s right. We’ll always come for you. It doesn’t mean I shouldn’t say something when I see something wrong.”

“Yeah, I know.”

I drive us for two minutes more, heading to my office. “Will you mind to stay in the office for a few minutes? Your mam is leaving work soon.”

“I don’t mind,” she tells me.

I turn around the village to find the perfect spot, by the time we’re out of the car and I’m helping her with her red backpack I’m calmer. I know I can’t control everything that happens in the world, but I sure as hell can control a few things. I definitely can make some things a little easier for the people I love.

‘The people I love’ being a very select group. I have always known, and told constantly by my friends, how much of a moody motherfucker I can be. I tolerate very few people; I never stand quietly when something is done wrong. I’m in a forever war with the world. It’s tiring, but fine, at least I think so.

I guide London by the shoulder to my office, taking the “Coming back” sign out of the door and unlocking it with my key. We let ourselves in, and I watch my goddaughter settle in the desk that should belong to a receptionist.

London settles in and I ask her to start homework, she doesn’t bat an eyelid to my request. I sit in my own office, door open so I can still watch London, and I start on work myself. The girl curves herself in front of a book and starts scribbling on a notebook.

Time to time a little part of me screams in anxiety. What if Ellis gets married? What if London stops giving me the time of day when she’s older? I’m not her Dad, one day she can just walk away and don’t give a shit. Then what? Then nothing, I guess.

I push all those nasty feelings aside; I don’t have the energy to pounder how life might be in a few years’ time.

I make a few work calls and after an hour I hear the front door opening and I know it’s Ellis.

I’m on the phone, just finishing up when I hear Ellis chatting to London but there’s a woman there too whose voice I don’t recognise. I hear them laughing and I hurry myself to hang up the phone. When my most annoying client decides to stop talking, I put the phone away and go over to the front.

I’m leaning on the doorframe and I see my best friend playing with her daughter’s hair. Ellis works at the pub, she’s wearing her usual black shirt and black trousers with a high pony holding her long brown hair. She looks up to me with those big brown eyes and I know whatever is about to come out, the answer will be a resounding no. I know that look. I can read Ellis like a fucking book, and I know her stupid idea’s face.

To the side of Ellis is a woman. A woman? She looks like a teenager. Pale pink hair, a little ink around her wrists and a nose ring. She’s wearing a Star Wars t-shirt and ripped jeans. I watch the three of them under furrowed eyebrows.

“Hey, Dar,” says Ellis, making me turn my attention to her again. “This is Rina.”

The young woman steps in front and offers her hand for me to shake. I do, but I’m still wary of what Ellis has to say.

“Rina?” I say looking at the pink haired stranger.

“Sabrina, but everyone calls me Rina.”

I turn to look at Ellis, she has a stupid grin on her. I don’t like it. At all.

“I know you’re in need of an assistant,” Ellis finally blurts it out.

Very slowly I turn to the Sabrina girl again. Narrowing eyes, head to toe I watch her one more time, she sticks her nose up defiantly, such a tough cookie, isn’t she? I stop myself from curling my lips. Instead, they all hear the one word rolling off of my tongue:

“No.”

  

 

 

       Rina

Oh my god.

Oh my god.

What a fucking jackass.

My fingers curl into the edge of my desk, my toes to the inside of my shoes and it’s only that and god himself holding me from physically hurting my stupid boss.

My stupid, tall, green eyed, suit wearing and smirk ready boss. He’s an asshole. At least he’s trying his best to sound like one. I look up, tipping my head to look at him right in the fecking eyes, my teeth gritting, my breathing coming out choppy.

“Boss…”

Grunt.

All he does is grunt, as he has his own language and never bothered to clue the rest of us in. It’s six months since I was hired as Darren Kelly’s assistant, a position which he told many times he didn’t care to fill, much less by me. But his best friend insisted so much he ended up agreeing on having me for a month. Just one month to shut Ellis up, I was told like it was professional of him to tell me such. But a month turned into two… and three…

 And here we fucking are.

Looking to each other in a death match, we’re both ready to die for our causes.

Darren’s a lawyer, a small family solicitor for the small town we live in. Most of his work consists of neighbourly disputes and divorce agreements but time to time he’s able to fight for what matters.

Look, the man is infuriating but he’s good. He’s passionate and he will fight forever for the greater good. That’s how we found ourselves in this particular pickle, that’s what caused a full-blown scream match since nine in the morning.

Darren found out about a few Au Pairs being mistreated by their host families. Shit payment, long hours, no time for English school, you know the drill. Abusive comments, not coming back on the agreed time. Little by little the last couple of months he collected information about many of the girls on how they were being treated and how much they were making a week. The figure itself made him enraged. Everything else set a fire in his eyes.

And look, I’m here for it, alright? I super am. I’m so grateful to be here and be able to help girls and talk to them… But he’s being a prick now and there’s no way around it.

It started with a call this morning, a timid call that shouldn’t be causing all this drama. One of the girls, the out spoken one with better English, rang in today to tell me she and the girls didn’t want to continue the action anymore. They did not wish to sue their host families. As a collective, they talked over the week and decided what was best for them. I’m a rational person so I only asked if they were safe, if they had any other employment in sight and to call me if they need anything.

Twenty minutes later my moody boss arrived and when I told him about the call, he lost his mind. Fucking lost it. Full on, pulling the hair off his scalp, screaming and shouting like I did something wrong.

Excuse me, I just answered the phone.

“And now I need to find a way to fix your fuck up, Sabrina,” he said in a mean tone about half an hour into the screaming.

From that, we’ve argued in circles, me reminding him I did nothing but respect people’s wishes and him letting me know that they were wrong and I should be the one to convince them the lawsuit was the best action.

“Boss…” I say now, mustering all my patience. “The problem here is that you aren’t sure that’s the best…”

“And staying with abusive fuckshits is much better, Sabrina? Do you think it’s safe?”

Christ on a cracker.

This is the same guy who danced with me and my friends last night. Sigh. When accidentally my girls and I met him and his friends at the pub slash club at the next town over, we all ended up very drunk and dancing like idiots. I can’t believe this is the same man I threated to copy the dance moves less than twenty-four hours ago.

This man, his beautiful face, the easy smile… it all disappeared. Now it feels like last night and the easy manner about him was a collective hallucination. Maybe I’m going insane, that would be right on brand for me.

I suck in a breath, easing my fingers off the table, trying my best to stabilize my heart. God, he angers me!

“They are scared, Darren,” I tell him with more edge in my voice that I would like to have. “They have visas to worry about, they will lose their homes and jobs all at once. Surely you can understand, right?”

His lip thinned before spitting, “Don’t patronize me, Sabrina, of course I understand what’s at stake for them. What you should’ve done was stay on the phone and fucking calm them down. Isn’t hard is it? Reassure them we have it. Is that too much to ask?”

No, it isn’t. Of course, it isn’t, but at the same time I feel for them, for the tremble of the girl’s voice when she called in, I don’t want to pressure them to do something… Because…

We aren’t sure how will turn out.

There, I’ve said it.

I’m not sure if Darren can turn this around, I don’t know if the girls are getting any compensation after this, if they will have their visas tempered with. And yes, I know the man in front of me is the most capable man I’ve ever met… But is that enough to trust him with the livelihood of all those people? Isn’t that too much responsibility for one mortal?

I have no answer to that particular loaded question, so I don’t feel like messing around with those girls, assuring them with shit I have no proof will be a reality.

I bite my lip and face him. Chin up, Rina girl. Narrowing my eyes to that giant of a man, no one is better at staring people down like me.

“I will call them,” he says with a low voice, so low it sounds like danger.

He’s so displeased with me. Fuck him.

“Don’t.” It’s my plea, and to this Darren scowls. “Darren… just don’t call them and force them to something… Fuck, give them the weekend maybe?”

He shakes his brown mane. “We need to proceed as quickly as we can, I can’t let…”

“That’s the terrifying part,” I sigh. “The war tactics going on in your head, and sure you’re great on what you do, it doesn’t mean that will settle any of the girls. I don’t think…”

“You think I will force them to anything?” he asks, disgusted.

Oh god. Give me patience, because if you give me strength, I will smack his beautiful face off.

“I think you’re very persuasive and you are good with words. And I think you talk fast and directly to the point… and sometimes the girls look dazed.”

“Just spill out already, Sabrina.”

I roll my eyes.

“It’s your manner, and your accent.”

“I have a very watered-down accent.”

“It’s very Yellow Meadows.”

A sneer. “That’s where I’m fucking from.”

“Sure is, Boss, it doesn’t mean it isn’t hard for them to keep up, especially when you’re talking legal shit. And you know you talk fast when you’re trying to reach a point. Look, it’s nothing to do with what you do or not. But they’re in a fragile situation, they’re young and this is all happening in a strange country in their second language. Just… don’t call them ok? Don’t push so hard.”

Darren deflates in front of my eyes. Shoulders sag and he brushes the huge palm in front of his eyes, and then looks back at me.

“I’m not trying to push hard.” Without notice he goes over to his desk and I stay close to mine, still holding myself up like I’m about to crumble.

Darren’s back with papers, he reads them to me. “Do you know the parents Thalita works for never comes back Friday night? They go straight to the pub after work, without notice, they just assume she’ll stay in and mind their three kids.” Another shuffle. “And Karina? She’s on 24/7. If the baby is up at night, she’s the one to go, she makes eighty euro a week.”

I straighten up and my palms finally leave the desk. I’m sure I have a pained look on my face, fuck I know it’s bad, I understand I…

“Blanca minds four children and cleans the four-bedroom house every day. It’s insane, they inspect to see if she vacuums every night.”

“Darren…” I shake my head. “I know why are you doing this. But calling them up and making them take the lawsuit… They’re already in a fragile situation…”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Sabrina, I’m here to help.”

Oh boy, here we go. Here we go Mr. Big Man full of good intentions. Better than most people I know, still it doesn’t mean he can bull himself in every situation and use his good intentions as a shield. We know what hell is full of, right?

And like in the little suicidal mission I’m in, I tell him so.

“Hell is full of good intentions.”

That doesn’t go down well.

Ho-ly shit. His lips curls inside his mouth, nostrils flare. Janey, I made him angry, didn’t I?

I open my mouth to order him to relax but he beats me. “Those people are mistreating barely legal girls, they are neglecting their children, they are paying less than the minimum wage. I’m furious, Sabrina. I’m livid. If we let them give up on this, they will continue to live that situation, they will continue to be abused. This is not just for the girls involved, but will be a message to every little shithead who thought they can get away paying a euro an hour for living-in help. It’s a disgrace to this country and the fact you’re not boiling in anger worries the hell out of me.”

My mouth closes with a snap. Say what?

“I am angry!” I say in a high tone that isn’t mine. “I’m so angry with everything and getting that call? Hearing the fear on her voice…” I shake my head. “It doesn’t mean I can bully someone into a goddamn lawsuit!”

“I am not…” He starts…

“It sure looks like it,” I scream over him.

It’s a complete stare down. Darren versus Rina: The Yellow Meadows showdown of a century.

To your left, a six foot two of a man, lean runner’s body, defined set jaw. To your right, five foot one of a pink haired twenty-year-old. I’m scrappy though. I can win, I’m sure I can.

I tap my fingers inside my wrist like I’m counting time. One, two, three breaths has passed since either of us muttered a word. It’s not the first time we have a good old scream down at the office, and I’m sure as hell it won’t be the last.

I open and close my mouth, he narrows his eyes, I look to the clock to my right. It’s past twelve, we’ve been fighting the whole morning.

“I’m going to go for lunch,” I say slowly. “You won’t make any calls and I will think of a way to have this sorted and get the girls back in without you…”

“Say one more time I’m bullying them Sabrina, and I swear…”

“I’m not saying, shit. Fuck, Darren, calm down. Just give me an hour to think of something, alright?”

I really think he’s going to say no. I can see it in his eyes, his favourite word ready to curl its way off his lips. He doesn’t say anything though. Instead I get a curt nod, a big breath of release, and in a blink, he leaves the room and slams his office’s door.

Ok…

Alright. I have an hour to think. That isn’t much but better than nothing. I grab my packed healthy sandwich and a chocolate bar (because I’m human) and I’m out of there. Covered in a thick jacket and a bright yellow scarf, I fight my way to the pub where I know Ellis will be and I plonk myself on a stool, bagging my head on the dirty bar.

Ellis laughs softly, not really paying attention on me, she’s busy scribbling in a huge book, working for sure, I’m just not really certain on what.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

God, what’s right, am I right? Darren is a pain in my ass, I’m back in Yellow Meadows, a town I really thought I saw the last of when I moved to try my luck in the big city… The dire dating situation of this place. I mean, so many things are wrong, just pick an area of my life and I will talk your ear off for two hours straight.

But I don’t say any of this. Only the Darren part. Well, in part because Ellis is Darren’s best friend and she can help with his moods, the other part is because the rest of my problems have so much backstory to unpack. I’m in need of a certified therapist.

When she gives me a simple solution, I feel a little blindsided. Are we going insane inside that office? Yes, we are. Suddenly, the problem doesn’t seem as big as it felt back there, just thirty minutes ago. Ellis is smart as shit but she’s no wizard.

Darren and I are so busy arguing we make things harder on ourselves.

I know it and I hope he knows it too.

I sigh and tell Ellis goodbye; I have to get the new idea running from today. I grab my phone and shoot a text on my way back to the office and when I reach our red door, I make a promise to myself.

I will not make things worse with Darren. I will not rise to stupid arguments; I will not fight him every step of the way. Nope.

He’s carefree, he’s funny, he’s easy going. I saw it all last night, didn’t I? It’s there somewhere. I will free that man’s wild soul as soon as I can. I surely will.

I turn the handle and step in. The office is quiet. I turn to my left and I open Darren’s office’s door, he opens his mouth to say something, probably school me on how I shouldn’t be opening his door without knocking first, but I just made a resolution out there and I am not here for another round.

“Let me set a meeting with the girls and my flatmate, Rocío.” I suggest from the door. “Let her talk to them, immigrant to immigrant. I know Rocío is Spanish and that’s not the same, but she understands the language struggle, the culture difference. She dealt with xenophobic employers back in Dublin. She can connect with the girls and talk to them with ease and maybe that will reassure them that’s the right move.”

My phone chimes and I smile to the text of one of my closest friends reply saying she will talk to the girls. I shake my phone up to Darren. “Rocío’s in. Can I set the meeting?”

I hear the grumble of his throat like he’s not that used to the word that is about to come out. “Yes.”