Page 35 of Cartel Devil

“Night, Joaco.”

She’s been calling me Joaquin all night. I noticed, and I thought she was putting distance between us. Now she uses her nickname for me, and I think I’ve fucked up even worse than I initially feared. It feels so final—like she’s saying goodbye to a friendship she no longer wants.

“Night, Tre.”

I watch her walk through the front door of her building, and it’s like I’m watching her walk away for good.

Chapter Eight

Tre

Fate. Destiny. Cosmic forces. The devil.

I don’t know what the fuck it is, but I’m so fucked all over again. I’m at Toria and Alejandro’s housewarming party. I really only know Toria and Joaquin here. I’m more of an acquaintance to the rest of the Diaz family. I don’t know any of the Diaz men, and Toria’s just starting to make her own friends in New York. It’s part of why I’m here since I’m a familiar face. However, I can’t cling to her since she’s the hostess.

Toria and Alejandro decided to do the party as a Sunday brunch, so there’s food on practically every surface. My stomach’s in knots over Joaquin. It doesn’t make for a pleasant combination.

It’s been three days since the movie disaster and two days since he rescued me at the club and barely spoke to me during the car ride to my place. I can think of a million places I’d rather be. Instead, my head’s throbbing, and I keep swallowing the nausea that keeps creeping up on me. I surreptitiously swipe my fingers over my forehead as though I’m pushing hair out of the way, but I’m wiping the perspiration from my brow. Why the fuck is it so hot in here? With so many people, Toria should’ve put on the AC.

Even though he’s been avoiding me, I notice Joaquin watching me closely as I sip my water. He doesn’t want me, but he won’t leave me alone. He noticed I don’t feel well. I don’t know how he can tell from across the room, but I sense his concern. Why can’t he check on me?

I mean, I don’t want to answer any questions or explain anything, but it would be nice if he tried. After all, he’s the reason I’m so uncomfortable. I scan the people in the living room and kitchen, along with those I can see on the patio. I really know no one.

Sera and Carmine aren’t here because they have their own family event. Elle—Enrique’s wife—is the Cartel’s equivalent of la madrina—the godmother—so she has responsibilities, even if this isn’t her house. She’s the only person I know well, and it’s a bit awkward these days.

I head toward the French doors out to the garden when a server offers me a canapé, and I nearly gag over the finger food. I slip onto the patio, and my nerves ease. I don’t know if it’s the fresh air or being out of Joaquin’s line of sight. Either way, I relax. I take several deep inhales and roll my shoulders back.

“Trish, are you all right?”

I turn toward Elle as she stops beside me. She and my mom are the only people who call me Trish. I smile and nod. She gives me one of her piercing stares that have intimidated me since I was a teenager.

“You know I was politely telling you to tell me what’s wrong.”

“I know. There are just a lot of people here. It got a bit too warm for me inside.”

“What you mean is there’s one too many Joaquins for your comfort.”

Does this woman have to be so fucking blunt all the fucking time?

“He’s not pleased I’m here, and there are only so many places I can hide.”

“Why do you think he isn’t pleased?”

“Elle, he refuses to speak to me. I don’t know what I did wrong, but he can’t stand me.”

You give kids cupcakes at birthday parties. They’re desserts—the best part of any meal. Coming from Sera, they’re something baked with love. It’s not like I offered him arsenic. Maybe they’re not the typical post-sex treat, but I don’t get how they tanked everything. How am I solely to blame? He could’ve suggested breakfast, but he didn’t. Yet somehow they’re the demise of a would-be relationship.

Her expression shifts, and it’s the maternal one I’m used to. It lifts an invisible weight from my chest.

“Trish, you couldn’t be more wrong. Joaquin may be impressive to look at, but he’d rather go unnoticed. He’s shy. It’s why you two are a perfect fit. An introvert and extrovert who can balance each other.”

“You sound like you’re ready to marry us off. I wouldn’t expect that from you of all people.”

“You and Steven broke up ages ago. It’s not like I think you’re going to leave my son for my nephew. I’ve known you since you were born. I watched you grow up. You’ve spent more time at my houses over the past thirty years than nearly anyone outside my immediate families. I think I know you pretty damn well.”

A sense of horror passes through me as I fear she’s going to confirm the real reason I’m in New York. But she doesn’t go down that path.

“I offended him, then the dinner at Sera’s and the movies—both monumental disasters. He protected me at the bar, then barely spoke to me in the car. Now he’s avoiding me. I thought I was doing the right thing by offering him some fu—damn cupcakes, but you’d think I offered to poison him. He completely shut down the moment I did. Since then, it’s been supremely awkward between us.”