His home was loud and full of laughter. The Romeros were not quiet people. Get a whole bunch of them together and add a few SUVs full of Morenos, and you had an all-out party. It should have been a happy time. His uncles and his cousin Moe were at it as usual as Moe showed off his cooking skills and Manny and Max tried to intervene.
“Out of my way,” Moe said, shoving Max away from the stove with his hip. “You don’t know about this, right, Izzy?” He turned to look at his wife sitting at the large kitchen island with the other girls. “This is my specialty south-of-the-border breakfast casserole. I throw everything in there: sausage, chorizo, onions, peppers—” He stopped to slap Manny’s hand away. “Get out of there!”
“You didn’t add enough salt!”
“What’re you talking about? I probably put too much, especially for your ass! You’re not supposed to be eating any of this.” Moe turned to Manny’s wife. “Hey, Aida, get this old man some oatmeal and a grapefruit or something.”
“I think that’s enough food, honey,” Izzy said, glancing around the huge center island covered from one end to the other with trays and bowls full of food.
“Yeah, no shit,” Nathan said, picking at one of the large trays of chilaquiles Sal’s wife Grace had brought. “I know there’s a lot of us, but even we’re not gonna finish all this.”
“And remember,” Emi said, trying to slip past her husband, who pulled her to him. “There’s still all the pastries and desserts on the dining-room table.”
Emi kissed her husband, who to AJ’s annoyance slid his hand down and squeezed her ass. “Hey!” he said, beyond exasperated, pointing his open hand at him.
Sydney smirked and Emi laughed when she turned to see what AJ was protesting about. “My bad,” Sydney said, kissing Emi one last time on the temple. “Habit. I forgot where I was for a moment there.”
AJ frowned, shaking his head as Emi walked toward him. “For someone who’s about to win the division championship, you’re in a mood.” She pulled a carafe of orange juice out of the fridge then turned to him, lifting a brow. “I thought things between you and Addison were getting better?”
“Nope,” he said, glancing away because he knew there was no way Emi or anyone knew that brawl in the last game had anything to do with Addison. “It’s really over now.”
“Really?” She put down the carafe on the counter.
AJ was surprised by how genuinely disappointed his sister appeared to be by the news. He’d begun to think Emi didn’t like Addison a whole lot. Not after hearing him tell her about what happened at the hospital that horrid day when his heart had been so heavy. Not that his heart hadn’t been feeling the same for the last few days. Only the rage helped now. Thoughts of Addison continuing to stay in touch with the guy, running to him every time he asked her to, for the sake of protecting Clair . . .
There were other ways for her to protect Clair, without having to deal with him directly. He’d pointed a few of those ways out the day he’d been so infuriated with her—with Bigsby—with the fucking world. And what did she do? Not only did she take his call, she went running to him again the very night she’d frantically searched for her precious seven-year-old, who’d gone wandering around a hotel by herself because of him. The same night AJ had lost his shit and wanted to kill the motherfucker.
The coffee mug slammed so hard against the kitchen counter it smashed loudly and shattered into pieces. Except for the music still playing, the room was silenced and all eyes were on him.
“Oops,” he muttered, grabbing a towel, and began cleaning up the mess.
Emi helped pick up the pieces from the floor. “I got it, Em.”
Ignoring him, Emi continued to pick up pieces of his mug from the floor as the conversation in the room resumed. “You okay, little brother?” Liv rubbed his back with one hand and her belly with the other.
“I’m fine,” he said, even as he gritted his teeth.
He was actually, if he stayed angry, that is. As much as he didn’t want to think about the possibility that there was more to Addison’s refusal to cut things off completely with that asshole—more to him having a tattoo of the daughter he’d never wanted—the inevitable vehemence the thoughts brought on helped numb the pain. His fury won out every time and he knew it always would. He was counting on it because the temptation to answer her calls was too much. Each time he almost did, he’d think about what excuse she’d have for him now. Why she had to stay in touch with her ex.
AJ had been right on the nose way back. Back when Lorenzo had told him about having to deal with his ex-fiancée remaining amicable with her ex for the sake of her kid. AJ knew it then way back before things were even that serious between him and Addison—before he’d fallen so hopelessly in love with her and Clair—that he’d never be able to deal with it. And he’d been absolutely right.
Once he assured Liv he was fine and managed to turn it back on her, asking how she was doing since she looked ready to pop any day now, Liv waddled away, satisfied with his response. Then he turned to his other sister, who was still peering at him suspiciously.
“What happened?” she asked, crossing her arms.
Only because the others were far enough away and too engrossed in their conversations to hear them, he decided to let her in on it. Well, that and because he knew his obstinate little sister well enough to know she wasn’t going to just let this go. So he’d tell her. Sort of.
“Clair’s dad is back in their lives.” He shook his head. “I ain’t dealing with that shit.”
Emi’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean back in their lives? Like she’s seeing him again?”
AJ shrugged; the thought absolutely killed him. “Could be. I don’t know. She claimed she’s hated him for the longest time, but suddenly she’s meeting up with him and talking to him on the phone and giving into every fucking request he makes to see her.”
When AJ noticed his raised voice had gotten Sydney’s attention, he walked out of the kitchen and into the dining room. As expected, Emi followed him into the dining room. The table in there was packed with a ridiculous amount of pastries, cakes, and every other dessert imaginable. AJ grabbed a croissant, even though he hadn’t had much of an appetite in days.
“So you don’t know for sure that she’s actually seeing him again. Just meeting with him and talking to him on the phone?”
“He’s still in love with her, Em.” He tore a piece of the croissant off, a little harder than he’d intended to. “She admitted he’d told her he was, just recently. He left his wife and wants to move out to California to be near them, and she keeps making excuses for why she has to keep seeing him. I’m done. I’ve already talked to Preston. I haven’t extended my contract with the Padres, and I’m not going to—”
“You’re leaving the Padres?” she asked, her eyes going wide. “AJ, we’ll never see you.”
“Sure you will when I’m in town to play against them.”
“But you love the Padres.”
“I know, but I have to, Em. I can’t stay with them. I’m already dreading seeing her or Clair tonight—dreading having to be around them for the entire World Series. I almost wish we’d lose this series just so I wouldn’t have to worry about that. There’s no way I can do even one more season here.”
The buzzer from the driveway gate went off. With some of the Morenos still expected to arrive, AJ didn’t bother asking who it was. He walked over and pushed the open button.