Page 69 of The Replay

"We'll stop. Never again. But what did you expect this time? All the signs point to you not having food at home."

Now I'm the one frowning. I could never handle the idea of her going hungry. Especially because of nerves. Maybe because my mom and abuela have always made sure to keep me fed, even when we lived on a shoestring budget, and even when I had enough money to get all our meals delivered if we wanted.

"It's fine." She sighs and makes her way back to the sofa. "I'll order takeout maybe. Since I don't have the privilege of food ready for me in the fridge. And it's not what I was talking about anyway, and you know that."

"Does that mean I can whip up a food order and send it to you? Since it doesn't mean anything."

It's just me being my mother's son, for someone I cared deeply about.

"No need," Mariana says. "It's okay."

"Text me your address. I know a place."

"No, Dom. You're doing too much for me. It's not fair. I can find an app. Sign up. All that jazz. Or I can dig into my emergency stash of frozen bread. I think I have butter."

"Fucking hell, Miss Duchess." I navigate on my phone until I find the right app. "I'm not taking care of you. I'm just feeding you. Once. My mom would be disappointed in me if she knew I'm letting someone I know go hungry."

Or if she knew I'm taking this kind of risk again, but I'm not going to think about that yet.

Mariana raises an eyebrow. "Would she still mind, if she knew it's me who you're feeding?"

I purse my lips and make a few selections on the app. My eyes stick to my screen, but I can't see her, and it helps.

My mom would worry for me if she knew I'm setting up an order to send to Mariana. She'd tell me to be careful. That if someone wants to go, they will go, and we need to let them. That there are plenty of people who could help Mariana and it doesn't need to be me.

I know these things. It's okay. This is an exception. Just making sure I can sleep tonight.

"Dom. What are you up to?"

I send the order to her phone. Mariana gets the notification.

"Dom!"

"All you need to do is add your address and please, please talk to Ames. She has a meal delivery service and her food is amazing. She'll set you up."

"Dom…"

My name keeps changing on her lips, going from teasing to a hint of tenderness I had not heard in years.

"If you don't—" I go back to our video call— "I'll talk to her. Then you won't have a choice, because she won't let you go hungry, either."

Her eyes are soft now. It hollows me out, scooping up my heart and pulling it through my chest. Because no matter how much I'm trying to convince myself that I'm doing this out of basic human decency, a part of me knows I'm feeling this way because it's Mariana.

"Thank you for doing this." Her voice rings with the same kind of sentimentality that beats inside of me. "I'm so anxious again and I'm trying to cope but all I am is getting a bit impulsive and… Please don't feel like you have to pander to me."

"I don't feel like I have to."

"Please. I mean it. So thank you for bringing me down from my panic and sending me this meal."

I shrug it off. "Of course. We're not being petty anymore, right? And it was kind of mean to have chiles en nogada and not offering some. This is the least I could do."

"And I appreciate it. Truly." She smiles.

A corner of my lips lifts in response. "Goodnight, Mariana. See you at Saint's in a few days."

"Goodnight, Dom."

I stare at the darkened screen. We were on the call for longer than I thought, and now the silence in my place is deafening. Nothing to hide what I just did, and how it blurs the lines around my heart. Good thing that I have music at my fingertips— it blares from my phone within seconds.