Page 52 of Fool Me Twice

Any icy fist formed in the middle of my chest. “I will cook this weekend. I promise.”

“I don’t want you to.” With an air of finality, he served himself some pineapple.

Georgia and Melba were both quiet, possibly unsure of what to do. Although Melba likely had an answer, she tended to let me take the lead whenever I was around. Now, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her raised eyebrows.

“This rice is amazing,” Georgia said, with way too much pep. “Brazilian rice really is the best.”

I worked a smile across my face. “It’s the garlic and onions.”

The conversation turned to other topics, but the whole meal I couldn’t get Sebastián’s words off my mind. When he’d mentioned his friends’ mothers, he’d seemed so…sad.

“Time for bed,” Melba announced once dinner wrapped up.

Sebastián gave Georgia a hug. “Good night, Georgia.”

“Good night, Sebastián. I’ll get you tomorrow, even if I need to stay up all night practicing.”

He grinned big. “Sorry I shot you right in the heart.”

“The only thing that’s wounded is my pride.”

Sebastián lingered next to my chair, probably unsure how to act after his little flareup.

“Good night.” I pulled him in for a side hug.

“Good night,Papai.” Stepping out of my hold, he ran for his bedroom, Melba following behind.

“Wine?” I uncorked the bottle.

“Sure. Thanks.” Georgia watched as I filled both our glasses.

An uncomfortable silence stretched across the room.

“Can I ask you a question?” She sipped her wine.

“Yes. Of course,” I said, realizing at the same time that since I had no way of knowing what was coming next I could very well regret my answer.

“Does Sebastián ever talk about his mother?”

I tensed. “No. He doesn’t.”

“Ah. That’s not the first time he’s brought up the topic of mothers, though.”

I studied her. What was she talking about?

“He did it with me the other day,” she explained. “I think that he might want to talk about her.”

The dread in my chest grew and grew. “This is the first time he’s done anything of the sort with me.”

“Maybe… maybe the topic makes him nervous, and that’s why he hasn’t brought her up directly.”

“Perhaps.”

“Did he…” Georgia ran her thumb up and down the stem of her wine glass. “Is it possible that he remembers her at all?”

A lump formed in my throat, and I didn’t have what it took to answer. Instead, I shook my head.

“So he probably has a ton of questions,” Georgia said. “Do you mind if I asked what happened to her?”