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which were resting on his lap. “He’s my ex and Gonzalo’s older brother by a
few years. Isabel and him met through us, when we started dating. And …
that’s about it.”
If I were smarter, I’d tell Aaron the whole story.
But as of lately, I’d seemed to excel at making only stupid decisions. So,
that was all I gave him.
In my defense, facing the catalyst of my current predicament was going to
be hard enough. I did not want to spend my time talking about Daniel
because that meant going back down memory lane, which had consisted of
bad decisions and heartbreak.
So, no, it wasn’t something I was happy to casually chat about regardless
of how crucial it was for the show we were about to put on. Even if a part of
me refused to acknowledge just how small I would feel, showing Aaron that
piece of myself, and even when I knew that I was lying to him. Lying again.
It was a lie by omission, sure, but it had the potential to bite me in the ass
later. Just like any lie would.
“You can trust me,” he said softly.
Maybe I could. But that didn’t mean trusting Aaron with that would ever
come easy to me. That fragment of my life had been locked up for a long
time—perhaps so long that chances were, the lock had grown rusty and
withered and there was no working it back open. That would explain how I
had gotten here. Somewhere across the Atlantic Ocean, sitting next to a man I
usually struggled to share the same air with without wanting to throw
something at his hard head, but who had somehow happened to be the one
man in New York City in the position to fill in as my made-up boyfriend.
“What’s my abuela’s name?” I kept my gaze low, anywhere but on his
face. I didn’t think I wanted to get a single clue as to what he was feeling at
that moment. I didn’t think it would make me feel good.
“Catalina,” Aaron said my name with something that sounded a lot like
pity.
I hated it. “Incorrect,” I snapped. “My abuela’s name is not Catalina,
Aaron. You need to know the name of my only living grandmother.”
I was deflecting, but that didn’t change the facts. He really had to know
the name of my abuela.
“So?” I pressed. “What’s my abuela’s name?”
Aaron dropped his head on the plush headrest, closing his eyes for a
second. “Your abuela’s name is María, and she doesn’t speak one word of