Worthy Of You: A Slow Burn Second Chance Romance by Nia Arthurs

Author:Nia Arthurs [Arthurs, Nia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-02-14T18:30:00+00:00

SEVENTEEN

DANTE

Melody has a stiffness to her. A wariness that sits on her skin and makes her frown more familiar than her smile.

When we get to the park, that hard expression takes over. Flings gamma rays and ice from her skin.

It’s because she’s nervous. I can see that.

But mama doesn’t.

Melody’s coldness takes her by surprise. And when Melody doesn’t wrap her arms around them and welcome them with big grins, mama becomes even more offended.

Hugs and kisses are how we give affection in our family. Especially with the matriarchs. We show them respect. Bare our teeth even if we don’t feel like grinning. Bow our heads in deference. Not because they’re better than us but because they had it harder. Because they had to fight to build from the ground up what the next generation easily inherits.

Melody tilts her chin like no one told her she was supposed to smile. She looks abuela straight in the eye and answers in a cold, formal tone when they introduce themselves.

I hold my breath, hoping mama doesn’t say anything rude. She has a hot temper, especially when she feels affronted. Her tongue will wag in rapid Spanish, the bark in the tone able to communicate, even to non-Spanish speakers, her distaste.

I pray it doesn’t come to that. Melody is not the type of person who will hold back simply because mama’s older and related to me.

“Oh, how cute!” Abuela exclaims a little too loudly. A little too frantically. So I know that she did it on purpose to distract mama and keep anyone from making a scene.

Mama’s head swerves to Sammy, who’s ducking behind Melody’s jeans. The moment her eyes land on my son, they soften. Eyelashes flutter. Fingers relax on her big, flower-patterned skirt.

Crisis averted.

“He looks exactly like you, Dante,” mama breathes. “It’s those eyes.”

She’s right. On the surface, Sammy’s eyes are a different color. A pale brown. Dreamy and innocent because his mama protected him from all the ugliness in the world—including me. But there’s something familiar in the shape and the edges. Something in the way they cringe slightly and narrow in fear that reminds me of myself when I was a kid.

Sammy shirks back when mama and abuela get too closed. I can see the hurt creeping over my mother’s face. I see the hesitant way abuela looks at me as if seeking permission to come forward.

I kneel in front of Sammy.

One hand rests on my upturned knee.

In a calm voice, I tell my son, “Hey, Sammy. This is your familia. Your family. That’s abuela.” I point to the older woman with more grey than black in her hair and hands clasped as if in prayer. Her eyes are shining and she smiles softly. “That,” I nod to mama, “is… also… your abuela.” I realize my mistake and tilt my head. “Wait.”

Melody snorts. I glance up and catch a small smile flit over her face. My heart thumps in a strange way. I swear I can see the sunshine in her smile.

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