How Much I Care (Miami Nights Book 2) Page 19

  His eyes pop open, his gaze connecting with mine. “Wow.”

  I smile, pleased with the one-word review. “Yeah?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “You were all stressed. I couldn’t have that.”

  “I might need that service a lot over the next few stressful months.”

  I laugh at his shameless comment. “We’ll see what we can do to keep you relaxed.”

  He tightens his arms around me and turns us over so he’s on top, looking down at me with a fierce expression on his sinfully handsome face. “I love you. I want this forever. You and me and Ev and more kids and lots of laughs and fun and everything. Tell me you want that, too.”

  “I do. Of course I do.”

  “Then let’s make that happen, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Chapter 19

  MARIA

  After last night with Austin, I’m filled with euphoria as he drives us to check out houses to rent for the winter. Even though we warned her that today we’d be looking at houses, Everly is cranky about not swimming first thing like she has all week. Austin told her if she’s a good girl while we look at houses, he’ll take her to the pool as soon as we get back to the hotel.

  He’s so good with her, and in my mind, there’s nothing sexier than a man who’s ruled by a tiny girl who has him wrapped tightly around all her fingers. He’s firm but loving with her, determined that she’s not going to be completely spoiled and unmanageable, although I can’t imagine her being either.

  She’s so sweet and funny. I melt every time she screams my name, and not spoiling her is going to be a huge challenge for me.

  My euphoria lasts until I realize where we’re going—Indian Creek Island, only the most exclusive neighborhood in all of Miami, where the houses probably start around fifteen million. From what I’ve heard about it, there’re only thirty or forty properties on the island, and it’s almost impossible to buy anything out here because the turnover is so low.

  “Uh, what’re we doing out here?” I ask Austin.

  “Looking at a house.”

  “To rent?”

  “Temporarily. A friend of a friend owns it and isn’t coming down this winter. He said it’s available if we’re interested. So I’m going to check it out.”

  “Oh.”

  He looks over at me. “Is that okay?”

  “If you want to live in the most bougie neighborhood in Miami.”

  “It’s not about the bougie. It’s about the house having what we need—two master suites, a good-sized room for Ev, a pool, a view and a yard where I can throw. I also want single family versus a condo or townhome so we have plenty of privacy. This one checks all the boxes.”

  He pulls up to a mansion. There’s no other word for it, and for a second, I can’t do anything but stare at the massive contemporary home that sits right on the water. I mean… Wow.

  “Come on,” he says. “Let’s take a look and see what we think.”

  “What’s there to look at? Who wouldn’t want to live here?”

  “It could be hideous on the inside for all we know.”

  I give him a withering look and get out of the car with a sinking feeling that sucks all the remaining euphoria from last night right out of me. Naturally, he’d want to live in a place like this. Who wouldn’t? I don’t begrudge him his ability to afford a house like this, but it’s a stark reminder of our vastly different economic situations.

  He punches in a code on a keypad that gets us inside. After putting Everly down to explore, he holds out his hand to me. “Don’t look so freaked out. It’s just a rental for the winter.”

  That may be true, but it’s also a firsthand look at what life with Austin would be like, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. Most of my life takes place on the opposite end of the spectrum, working with the neediest people in our community. How can I reconcile this house with that reality? I can’t, and I shouldn’t even try.

  I take that unsettling realization with me into the most extraordinary house I’ve ever seen anywhere, even in magazines or on TV. The rooms are huge, the views exceptional, the decorating clean and contemporary and simply gorgeous. There’s a wine locker and a media room and six bedrooms, six and a half bathrooms, two enormous master suites, a stunning pool and a dock out front with a sexy speedboat tied up to it. In addition, there’s a grassy area between the pool and the dock that includes a huge sandbox and swing set, all of it surrounded by palm trees and lush landscaping.

  Everly sees the swing set and lets out a squeal. “Dada! Swing!”

  “Let’s go check it out, baby girl.” Austin lets her drag him outside to look at the pool and to swing while I hang back, trying to wrap my head around this.

  The furniture on the patio and pool deck alone are worth more than I’ll make in ten years.

  I swallow hard as a feeling akin to hysteria overtakes me. This is too much. It’s obscene and beautiful and luxurious and…

  He’s worked hard for everything he has and deserves to spend his money any way he chooses. I know all that, and I admire what he’s accomplished with his talent.

  But this… This might be too much for me. Try as I might, I can’t imagine myself spending the night in this palace and then commuting to my job at a free clinic in Little Havana, where I experience breathtaking poverty and overwhelming need every day. We’re constantly struggling to make ends meet at the clinic, to provide the most basic of health services to our clients on a shoestring budget that gets tighter all the time.

  I sit on the end of a cushy lounge chair on the patio and watch Austin push Everly on the swings, the two of them laughing and smiling. I love seeing them together and watching their undeniable bond. I love everything about them both, except for this… I don’t love that he’s so staggeringly rich that he can afford to live in a place like this, and I have no idea what to do with those feelings.

  Austin gives Everly ten minutes on the swings before collecting her to check out the rest of the house.

  I follow him, bringing the dead feeling inside as I view huge bedrooms, marble bathrooms with fixtures I’ve never seen before and the most amazing kitchen in the history of amazing kitchens.

  We leave there a short time later and a Realtor takes us through two more houses in equally exclusive areas—Hibiscus Island and Star Island—before concluding our tour in Gable Estates at yet another mansion, this one on the Intracoastal Waterway. Not one of the houses we look at would sell for less than ten million dollars.

  I can tell that Austin likes the last one in Gable Estates the best. It’s not quite as huge as the others but still has all the other features he’s looking for and is in a secure, gated community.

  “What do you think?” he asks me as we stand in the spacious great room in the center of the home while Everly runs circles around us.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Tell me what you really think, Maria. I want to know.”

  “Um, well, it’s a bit obscene.”

  “Huh. Really?”

  I nod.

  “Well, okay. Hey, Ev, come on. Let’s go.”

  “Dada! Swim!”

  “Soon, Pooh.”

  I follow him out of the house and get in the passenger seat while he straps Everly into her car seat. We’re both quiet as he drives us back to the hotel, and I can’t help but notice that he doesn’t hold my hand the way he always has when we’re in the car.

  After starting the day on such a high note, I try to reconcile that feeling with the one that’s overtaken me during our house tour. As we pull up in front of the hotel, I decide I need a break to process what I’m feeling before I say something that can’t be unsaid.

  “I think I’m going to run home for a bit,” I tell him after he turns the car over to the valet. I’m fishing for the ticket for my own car in my purse when his hand encircles my arm.

  “Don’t go. Let’s talk about it.”

  “We will. I just need…” I force myself to look up at him. “
I need a minute. Go to the pool and have some fun. I’ll see you later.”

  Everly puts her hands on Austin’s face. “Dada! Swim!”

  “We’re going to swim, Pooh,” he says, but he never looks away from me. “We’ll see you later?”

  Nodding, I hand my ticket to the valet.

  Austin kisses my forehead and walks into the hotel with Everly in his arms.

  I turn to watch them go, my heart feeling broken for reasons I can’t begin to comprehend. The valet stand is busy, and it takes fifteen very long minutes for my car to arrive. I have to fight the urge to run after Austin and Everly for every one of those long minutes. They’re leaving tomorrow for five days. What am I doing running away?

  I get in the car and sit for a second, trying to figure out what I want to do. And when I pull out of the hotel parking lot, I head toward home in late afternoon traffic that gives me far too much time to think. My phone chimes with a text, but I don’t check it. Not yet.

  I find myself at the restaurant, wanting to see my Nona. All my life, she’s been the one I go to when I need someone to help me make sense of something. Why should now be any different? I park in the back and duck in the kitchen door, the scents of Italian and Cuban food making my mouth water the way they always do.

  Uncle Vincent is coming out of the kitchen. “Hey, hon. Are you working tonight?”

  I rarely work on Fridays, but sometimes I’ll cover for one of the other waitresses. “Nope. I was looking for Nona. Is she around?”

  “She’s upstairs in the banquet room. We’ve got a rehearsal dinner tonight.”

  “I don’t want to bother her if she’s busy.”

  “Go on up, sweetheart. You know she’s never too busy for you or any of her grandchildren.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Are you okay?” Vincent asks, giving me the same look my dad gives me when he can tell something isn’t quite right.

  “I’m fine, but thanks for checking. I’ll see you before I go.”

  “I’m here all night,” he jokes, since he’s there just about every night.

  As I go up the stairs to the function rooms, I think about the comfort I’ve always had in knowing where to find these particular people any time I need them. I love my own parents very much, but in times of turmoil, it’s Nona and Abuela I turn to most often.

  Nona is supervising the final details of the setup for the dinner that’ll take place in the banquet room tonight. She watches over the staff with a finely tuned eye for the kind of details that make Giordino’s such a destination. Flowers, place settings, candles and first-rate food. The banquet rooms are often booked a year in advance. They’re closing the restaurant itself for Carmen’s wedding reception because the rooms upstairs were already booked.

  When she turns toward the stairs, Nona sees me there, her face lighting up with a delighted smile. Carmen, Dee and I often talk about how no one will ever love us the way our grandmothers do, and even though they’re in perfect health, we worry about the day when they’re no longer around to ground us.

  “This is a nice surprise,” she says when she hugs and kisses me the way she always does, as if we haven’t seen each other in months. “I thought you were with Austin and Everly tonight.”

  “I was. I am… I, uh, do you have a minute?”

  “For you? Always.” She takes me by the hand and leads me to the bar that serves both banquet rooms. “Drink?”

  “Some water maybe.”

  She pours ice water for both of us and sits next to me on one of the barstools. “Ah, feels good to sit.”

  “You’re not doing too much, are you?”

  “Probably, but it sure beats sitting around doing nothing.”

  I laugh at her frequent refrain on the perils of retirement, which is a dirty word around here. Neither she nor Abuela have any desire to be retired, or “put out to pasture,” as they say. Nona’s dark hair is shot through with gray these days, her face lined with a wrinkle here and there, but her mind is as sharp as it’s ever been.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s the dumbest thing.”

  “Usually is,” she says, her lips curling and her eyes lighting up with amusement.

  “He’s obscenely wealthy.”

  Her brow rises in a comical expression. “You’re just finding that out?”

  “I knew he had money… I mean, all professional athletes make a lot of money, which is something I’ve always thought was so strange.”

  “Nurses and teachers should be the millionaires.”

  “Exactly!” We’ve had this conversation before when I’ve ranted about the pay inequities for such important jobs. “I’ve sat at the ballpark with my dad and talked about the overpaid ballplayers and all the things we could do to help people if we had their money.”

  “And now that you’re dating one of them, your perspective has changed.”

  “It hasn’t, though. I still think it’s obscene that they get paid what they do to play a game.”

  “Fair enough, but it’s not his fault that his profession commands that kind of money. Society is to blame for placing a higher value on what he does than what you do, even if we all know what you do is far more important.”

  “It’s not about what I do versus what he does.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Not specifically.”

  “What brought this on?”

  “We went to look at houses today on Indian Creek Island, Hibiscus Island, Star Island, Gable Estates.”

  “Ah…”

  “Nona, the houses were mansions on steroids. I’ve never seen anything like them.”

  “And it left you feeling unsettled.”

  “Yes! I was thinking, how do I spend time in this place with him and then get in my car and drive to work at the clinic where people have nothing?”

  “I can totally understand why you’d have those thoughts and feelings, but let me ask you this. Do you love him?”

  “Yes. God, yes, I love him so much. Him and Everly both.”

  “Do you think it matters to him that you make a very modest salary?”

  “No. I’m sure he doesn’t care about that.”

  “And yet you’re here with me rather than with him because you can’t handle that he makes a big salary.”

  “They’re saying he could make a hundred million as a free agent.”

  “I saw your face when Nico said that the other night. You hadn’t heard that before?”

  “No! I had no clue. I mean I knew it would be a big payday, but a hundred million is just…”

  “Think about what he could do with that kind of money. What you could help him do.”

  “What you mean?”

  “Your clinic is always operating on a wing and a prayer. If you told Austin that, I bet he’d personally fund the clinic going forward, not to mention local food banks, pantries, homeless shelters. If you were to end up married to him at some point, perhaps that could be your mission in life. To help him spend his money on worthwhile causes.”

  “Why is it that you can always cut through to the heart of a matter in a way that never occurs to me?”

  “It would’ve occurred to you eventually, sweet girl. You’re just having trouble seeing the forest for the trees because you’re falling in love with a man whose life is very different from yours, and those differences are going to present challenges. No question about that.”

  “A hundred million, Nona,” I say on a sigh. “I have no idea what to do with that info.”

  “There’re far worse problems you could have than to be falling in love with a rich man.”

  “And I know that. Please… Of course I know that.”

  “I know you do, honey. Your heart has always been so big toward people who have less than you do. It’s not lost on any of us that you could make much more by taking a job at a hospital or private practice.”

  I’ve had numerous offers over the years to upgrade my career and salary and have turned them al
l down because I love what I do at the clinic so much. I have no doubt I’m making a huge difference for people who need what we provide. Even my Saturday nights at the restaurant are part of that effort. I supplement my income by waitressing so I can afford to work at the clinic. “I could never leave the clinic because of money.”

  “And I love you so much for that attitude.”

  “My need to help others comes right from you and Abuela. You lead by example.”

  “You make us proud every day with the work you do. But that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to love a man who makes an obscene amount of money. My mother used to tell us it’s just as easy to love a rich man as it is to love a poor man. Not that we listened to her.”

  “Pardon me, Livia,” one of the banquet captains says when he approaches us. “Could I borrow you for just a minute?”

  “Duty calls.” Nona pats my knee. “Don’t run away. I’ll be right back.”

  “I’ll be here.” I take a sip of my water and check my phone to find a long text from Austin.

  Dear Maria,

  I miss writing to you. As much as I love seeing you every day and spending time with you, I loved writing to you and having you write back to me. Let’s never stop doing that, okay?

  And I’m already in tears.

  I know you’re freaking out about the houses we looked at. I get why. You may not realize that I come from humble beginnings. We were solidly middle-class growing up in Wisconsin. We always had what we needed, took fun vacations and had wonderful holidays and birthdays and played Little League and hockey. But we weren’t rich by any means.

  It’s taken me years to come to terms with my new circumstances, and I give generously to a number of different organizations, including the Big Brothers/Big Sisters of Baltimore, several organizations that help underprivileged kids play Little League Baseball, and I also give to the American Cancer Society because both my grandfathers died of cancer, and to St. Jude’s because of the great work they do for kids with cancer. I understand that my situation will be an adjustment for you, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes to help you fit into my world if you’ll help me fit into yours.