Page 45 of The Intimacy of Control

“De nada. Dig in. Tell me about your days.” She had a bowl in front of her as well, stirring the noodles together with a spoon.

River noisily slurped a spoonful down, all annoying and shit. “Forrest has an old boyfriend.”

I coughed and sputtered over my bowl. A few noodles had gone straight to my lungs. Instead of looking concerned, Mamá was staring at me with her eyes narrowed. I tried to cough out some sort of explanation, but I was failing miserably. “Cállate! H-he lies!” I turned to the side, hacking into the empty space beside the chair.

“What does he mean by old, hm?”

River started to chime in, but I yelled before he could. “Don’t listen to him! Just don’t. He isn’t my boyfriend.”

She raised an eyebrow at me. “He isn’t?”

“No. I’m just…seeing him. Talking to him. And stuff.” Oh, I was fumbling pretty damn badly. River was going to fucking get it later. “We’re friends.”

“You are a terrible liar, mijo. Tell me more. What does he look like? What does he do?”

This was horrible. Terrible. “Ma, I’m not lying. River is blowing it out of proportion.” She tapped her nails against the table, which meant I needed to hurry up and start explaining. Sighing, I leaned back in my chair. “He’s a little shorter than me. Brown hair. Really pretty hazel eyes. He owns a bar called Driftwood Jack’s.”

“Hm. How old is he?”

I glanced to the side, refusing to look her in the eye. “Thirty-nine.”

When silence was all that followed, I instinctively knew Mamá was contemplating killing me. Truly. I looked her way, trying to plead with her with my eyes alone. She had to love me, right? That was the rule of being a mother?

She nodded slowly, picking up a spoonful of her soup. “Wow. Are you happy? Is he a good man?”

“Oh, Mami.” I smiled. “He’s amazing. We really are just friends right now, but I’m hoping that’ll change. I really think he might be the one.”

River dropped his spoon, making a loud clatter. “The one? Isn’t it a bit early for that? I mean, you’re not even dating yet.”

Mamá shook her head. “I knew Ernesto was the one for me the first time we met. Sometimes, you simply know. I think that’s how God speaks to us. I hope one day you understand that, River.”

“Thanks, Ma. I’m going to keep trying with him. I really like him.”

“What’s his name?”

“Jack. His name is Jack.” And Jackson. And slut. And sweetie. And sweetheart, honey, cutie… For me, Jack had a lot of names. Names only I got to call him. Names I loved calling him and seeing how his eyes sparkled in response to each.

River cleared his throat. “Well, now that we’re done with that, let me tell you about work, Mami.”

Always the attention stealer. Classic last-born syndrome. Not that I minded at the moment, seeing as I still had an entire bowl of food to devour. Right as I’d taken another bite, my phone buzzed. I fished it out of my pocket, smirking at the irony.

Jackson

Here are those clothes sizes. Why did you need them again?

No reason. Thank you

Jackson

Why do I feel like there is a reason and you’re just not telling me?

Oh, there was. But it was a birthday gift, and I couldn’t ruin a birthday gift.

Idk. Ask yourself that

Jackson

Noted. When are you free next?