“You try to avoid talking about her, but you can’t help yourself.”
“You brought her up just now, not me.”
He waves me away. “Yeah sure, because tiptoeing around the subject of doing ‘normal family stuff,’ specifically in regard to my wife, was a good cover. If any other man started asking questions about how my wife could be married to an athlete like me, the conversation would have proceeded much differently, and you know it.”
The guy is obsessed with his wife. It’s a known fact. So I just grunt in response.
“You were almost on the verge of knocking me out when I told you I knew Isa, and you assumed the worst. I’ve been riling you up for almost a decade. I’ve done some of my best work to try and make you snap out of this pretty boy persona. Yet the moment you thought I may have had a past with Isa, I saw it in your eyes.”
“Saw what?” I ask, aggravated that he’s really not letting me off the hook.
“That.” He points to my face. “The look of a man who’s willing to risk it all. For the right woman,” he declares. “I swear, man, I didn’t even entertain the idea of fucking with you when I saw what you were thinking, because I saw it. I knew then and there you would lay me out right on our home field if I pushed the wrong button.” He tsks as he gives me an exaggerated once-over. “But then I thoughthey, let’s give my guy the benefit of the doubt, right? Maybe he was being a nice guy, protective of those in his circle. That I could get behind.” He pauses.
Long enough for me to sigh and have to push him along. “But?”
“But.” His voice surges with energy, as if he’s delivering the best closing statement in a defense case. “But then you went ahead and slipped up.”
I roll my eyes. I want out of this conversation, yet I can’t make myself move away from it. A morbid part of me needs to know what I’m putting out there that isn’t keeping the lid as tight on my Isabella infatuation as I thought.
“And I slipped when, exactly?” I ask, feigning disinterest in the matter.
“When I laid the simplest of traps for you, my friend.” He grins mischievously, and now I feel like he’s just full of shit.
“All right, that’s my cue to get the hell out of here. You are in peak form today.” I go to move from my bench, but his words keep me seated.
“You offered to pay.”
“What?” I ask, confused.
“Come on, Mateo. Keep up, will you?” He runs a hand through his hair. “When I offered Isa a spa day with my wife? Dinner and drinks too? I didn’t exactly do it out of the kindness of my heart.” He pauses. “Any other time, I would, but not this specific time,” he clarifies before he continues. “Because the second I saw how your whole demeanor changed when she was on video chat, I knew I had to test my theory.”
“My demeanor? What, are you saying I was making heart eyes at the woman?” I huff.
“No.” He shakes his head. “You were acting like you wanted all her attention on you and you wanted me gone so you could have it.” He waits a beat before saying, “You offered to pay. Now, I’m not saying you’re a cheap son of a bitch. Hell, we all know you’ve got enough cash to set you up for a few thousand lifetimes. But when it comes to women, or anyone outside of your mother and daughter? Respectfully, you could give two shits. And I get it. There are gold-digger websites dedicated to how to land a date with you. It’s wild out here in these streets. But when I offered to pay for Isabella to go out? Yeah, no fucking chance was Mateo Martinez about to let that fly.” He chuckles darkly. “When we won our last World Series and I bought Anna a balloon at Disney World? You went ahead and bought the entire batch from the attendant. When your mother was recovering from hip surgery and Denise brought her lilies, her favorite flower—”
I groan. “I get it. I tend to go a bit overboard—”
“You had lilies planted outside of every window in her apartment and her balcony. She lives on the twenty-seventh floor in Midtown. Those flowers wouldn’t survive more than a few weeks at most up there. But the price tag and absurd effort were worth it because her reaction to seeing fresh flowersoutside her windows when we live in a concrete jungle was all you cared about.”
“Okay, fine. It may have been a bit much. But what’s that really prove? That I like to spoil my mother and daughter? And that I was being nice when I, uh, offered to pay for Isabella that day.”
“False. You see, I’ve lived with a woman for many years now, and you know what I’ve learned during all that time?” he asks seriously.
“How to be a fucking chismoso,” I mutter under my breath.
“Yes. The best chisme sessions will always be with your wife. Remember that. But also, I’ve learned about love languages. And Denise and I both agree that yours is gift giving. So with that little nugget in mind, I deliberately offered Isa a day full of spoiling. An extravagant gift, right in your face.”
Crap. Not Denise too.
“And if you cared for her, the way I suspected you did, I knew you would offer.”
I stare at him, dumbfounded. “And I offered,” I mumble as I run a hand over my beard, resigned to Sherlock Holmes here.
He smacks my knee. “And you fucking offered, bro. Actually, no. You almost demanded you pay. Just like I would have if another man offered the same deal to my wife.”
I don’t know if it’s the brutal workout I just endured or if Torres’s masterclass in mindfuckery has done me in, but I sense my resolve starting to slip.
“She’s my nanny,” I offer weakly.
