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you. But first,” she scrunched her nose up as he neared her, “shower. I can’t have that stink in my kitchen.”

“Actually, it’s my kitchen,” he reminded her on a playful smirk.

Valeria sniffed. “I’m in it. My kitchen.” Then she disappeared through the doorway.

And he went to shower.

Fifteen minutes later, clean and dressed in a fresh T-shirt and pair of black sweatpants, he approached the small kitchen where Valeria stood over the stove—barely. While Tonia had inherited her height from her father, her mother just crested five feet. But what she lacked in inches, she more than made up for in personality and love. He’d known Valeria and Ramon since he’d been a tall, lanky fifth grader. They were second parents to him, and in the two years since Tonia’s and Mateo’s deaths, they’d been his sole connection to the woman who’d owned his heart from the time she’d run up to Branson Greggs on the playground at recess, kicked him in the nuts and called him a pendejo for spitting “spic” at Cole.

The memory was only edged in pinpricks as he sat at the breakfast bar and smiled. Tonia had been a firecracker when riled, as the hints of red in her dark brown hair had hinted. And nothing set her off more than someone coming after those she loved and considered under her protection. At ten years old, he’d become one of those people to her.

“I was right about your refrigerator,” Valeria gloated, tossing him an arch glance over her shoulder. “Good thing I brought groceries along with dinner.”

“Mamá, you didn’t have to do that,” he murmured, her generosity never failing to touch him.

“I know I didn’t.” She returned to the food warming on the stove, and in minutes, slid him a plate piled with his favorites, ropa vieja and arroz con gandulez. He groaned at the delicious aroma wafting from the shredded beef and rice with pigeon peas and dug in. Humming, Valeria patted his free hand. “Slow down, mijo. There’s plenty more.”

“Thank you for this.” He pointed his fork toward the food. “I wasn’t even aware I was starving until I smelled your cooking.”

“Mmm-hmm.” She perched on a stool across from him, her gentle but perceptive gaze fixed on him. Sometimes, it was difficult looking into the brown eyes that she’d bequeathed to her daughter. “I tried calling you earlier to let you know I was headed over. Now I see why you didn’t answer. Working out again.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry. I left my cell inside the house and didn’t hear it ring.”

“That’s not the problem, Cole.” She tilted her head to the side, studying him. “When I walked into that garage, sweat practically poured off your body and you were shaking. Which means you’d been at it for a while. Something is on your mind. Or something happened. Which is it?”

He considered lying. And even parted his lips to give the standard “nothing.” But that didn’t emerge.

Before he could reply, she softly asked, “Is this about Lacy Mitchell? I know she called and left a message for you today. She contacted me when she didn’t hear from you.”

Cole frowned. “The real estate agent?” He shook his head. “No, but I haven’t checked my messages in the last few hours. What did she want?”

His mother-in-law didn’t respond, but just stared at him, love and a mild reproach in her gaze. In that instant, the answer plowed into his head, and he flinched. “I hope you told her I’m not interested,” he said.

“No, Cole. I didn’t tell her that. I said I would talk to you about it.” She tilted her head, a small, melancholy smile curving her mouth. “It’s time. It’s been two years.”

“No.” He shook his head. Hard. Adamant. “No.”

“The house is just sitting empty, Cole. You’re not going to live there again. Let someone else bring the love that you and Tonia shared back to it. Let a family—”

“No,” he interrupted. Then, immediately winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disrespect you by cutting you off. I just... I just can’t...” He knew his family believed he should sell the house that stood as a monument to his life before Tonia died in childbirth. The thought of someone else laughing, eating, making love in the home where he was supposed to have lived with his wife and his infant son... Bile raced an acidic path toward his throat. “I’m not ready to let her go.”

“It,” she murmured. “You mean, it. You’re not ready to let the house go.”

His slip hit him, but he again shook his head. Slower this time. “Same thing.”

“Okay, Cole,” she said, that terrible kindness and understanding in her gaze. He glanced away from it. “What were you going to tell me before?”

Once more, especially after this conversation, he almost blurted out “nothing.” But his tongue didn’t cooperate with his brain. And the truth rebelliously slipped from him.

“I... I touched a pregnant woman’s stomach today. Felt her baby move.” He didn’t say any more and from the glistening in his mother-in-law’s eyes, he didn’t need to.

“Oh, mijo,” she whispered, covering his hand with hers, squeezing and holding on. “It gets easier, I promise.”

“Has it? For you?” he asked.

She smiled, but sadness stained it and her dark brown gaze. “Some days, yes. And then others?” She shrugged a shoulder. “Others, I’m faithing it until I make it. But I have to remind myself that I had my beautiful Tonia in my life for twenty-nine blessed years. God knows, I would’ve loved more. To me, it isn’t the natural order of life for a child to die before her parents. Still, I’m so thankful for the time I had with her. I try to think on those days, those years, instead of the ones I won’t ever have. And more and more, I’m finding comfort in that. Enough that I’m starting to find joy again, even in the little things.”

He didn’t reply. Couldn’t. Because part of him yearned to be where she was. But

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