Tangled: A Moreno Brothers novella (18 page)

He read the note back, satisfied it was good enough: clear and to
the point. There was no way it could be misinterpreted. It’d been impossible
not to cuss. But Romero reasoned that all bullshitting aside as adult as he
said he’d be about this, Elliot was a lucky man that Romero hadn’t found him
today. The whole way here, Romero had felt the ticking of the time bomb getting
louder. By the time he’d gotten out of his car, Romero was fairly certain Elliot
would be getting at least one good one to the fucking mouth for all the things
he had so
subtly
been saying to his wife. So he figured Elliot had gotten
off way easy with a little cussing in writing.

Asshole,

If you’re as intelligent as you’re supposed to be, we’ll
never hear from you again.

Use that same brain to figure out where you can shove
these ornaments.

Romero

a.k.a. Isabel’s husband.

He stuck the sticky note on the gift box and walked out slowly,
still hoping the guy might walk in, but he didn’t. As satisfying as it was to
know that there’d be no doubt that Romero knew what the professor had been up
to and that it hadn’t been appreciated, a small part of him still wondered if
there were any way Izzy had been taken by this guy’s intelligence.

He’d never questioned whether or not he and Izzy were meant to
be. There was no doubt in his mind that he couldn’t live without her. He’d been
saying for years, even before they were married, that she was perfect, and for just
as long, she’d been proving him right. Not just because of her looks and how
perfectly they got along, but even Manny and Max often made note of what a
devoted wife and mother she was. Even if she hadn’t turned out to be as neat,
organized, and perfect at parenting, Romero would still be crazy about her, but
all those things were just the icing on the ever-loving cake. She was sexy as
shit, and they could talk nonstop. As timid as she’d appeared to be when he’d
first met her, she’d been making him laugh from day one. She was funny as shit.
At least he thought so, even though most the time she didn’t understand why she
made him laugh so much.

Deep down he had to wonder sometimes if she didn’t secretly crave
the deeper more thought-provoking conversation a guy like Elliot could provide.
Romero had always listened to her every word when she told him about the books
she was reading and the lectures she was working on. He commented and asked
questions because he was genuinely interested. But he knew if she spoke to
Elliot about the same shit his bullshit comments were likely way more profound
than Romero’s. He wanted to believe with all his heart that, no matter how
fucking brilliant and perfect she was, she still felt him worthy of her love.

Thirteen

Surprise!

t was Christmas morning and the first Christmas morning
since they had kids that Izzy hadn’t been up with him getting all the Santa
stuff ready. After getting home from the Moreno’s Christmas Eve party, they’d
been up into the wee hours, doing the last-minute Santa wrapping. She actually
knocked out in her clothes right on the bed with all the wrapping paper, so
this morning he didn’t have the heart to wake her. This year there was no
putting big shit together. It was mostly techy crap, lots of book sets, and
smaller toys.

Since Manny, Max, and Aida had spent the night and were up and
ready early in the morning to help put it all together for the kids, Romero let
his Izzy sleep in. As usual, it was way too much. The goddamn set up with all
the gifts for the kids was fucking overkill. Manny and Max were
ridiculous
.
“Are you kidding me with this shit?” Romero whispered when he saw the ginormous
train set they got for Romeo.

The kids ran down the stairs all starry eyed. No way was he
letting Izzy miss out on this, so he started up the stairs. “Mommy’s still
sleeping,” Mandy informed him. “She’s dreaming about E.T. again.”

This didn’t surprise him. Izzy had been so tired lately. He was even
gladder she wasn’t going back to work. “Just like last time, Daddy,” Romeo said,
bringing his hand to his mouth, laughing. “She was talking to Elliot.”

Screeching halt.

Everything he’d been worried about and trying to coordinate the
way his anal wife would’ve done on Christmas morning came to a screeching halt.
He didn’t even look at his uncles, who he knew were thinking the same thing he
was. He’d since explained to Max about the mall scene and why she’d been
crying. He knew they’d been skeptical, but he hadn’t cared. He believed Izzy
when she said she didn’t have feelings for the douche.

Now he hurried to his bedroom, feeling that same adrenaline rush
he’d felt the day Max and Aida told him about Izzy at the mall. The very same
rush he felt when he’d stalked through the university parking lot with a
purpose. Only this time the ache he felt in his heart surpassed the anger. For
a moment, he considered the faint possibility that she might actually be
dreaming about that kid in the movie his kids had been watching nonstop ever
since Manny and Max got them the DVD. It was grasping and pathetic, but he
never wanted to believe something so badly in his life.

When he reached the room, he was surprised to see how soundly she
still slept. The kids had obviously stopped by their bedroom before heading
down, and they were never the quietest. Max often used his Yoda speak to say “Very
loud, the Romero in these two is.”

Romero crawled up next to her, careful not to wake her and waited
because she was still mumbling shit that he couldn’t make out. She looked so
content. Happy.

“Elliot,” she said, and the fucking name out of her lips nearly
killed him. Was she really dreaming of the fucker? She whispered a bunch of
other shit he couldn’t quite make out. “Yes, baby.”

Unable to wait even another second, Romero nudged her, and her
eyes flew open. She looked completely alarmed then sat up. “It’s Christmas
morning?” she asked, absolutely scandalized.

“Yeah,” he said, staring at her, his heart utterly shattered.

“Oh my God! Are the kids downstairs?”

“Yeah, they are.” He stared at her. “What were you dreaming of?”

“I don’t even know,” she said, scrambling out of bed. “What time
is it? Did they get their Santa stuff?”

She looked as ready to cry as he felt. “No.” He gulped back the
ache in his throat, still unable to believe what he’d heard. “But they’re about
to. It’s why I came up to wake you.”

Standing up quickly, she looked down and saw she was still in
last night’s clothes. Then her horrified eyes looked back at him. “Did we get
everything done? Were all the gifts wrapped?”

“Yes.” He nodded robotically as she rushed around the room,
looking for something. “Izzy,” he said, frozen in place, watching her, but she
was so caught up frantically looking around for something. “Isabel!” Finally,
that got her attention, and she peered at him, her brows furrowing in question.
“What were you dreaming about?”

She thought about it for a moment then brought her hand to her
mouth. In the next moment, she darted out of the room into the bathroom. He
heard the water turn on and what sounded like her coughing.

Romero knocked on the door, not sure if he should be mad that she
avoided his question or concerned. “Are you okay?” he asked.

What felt like the longest few minutes of his life dragged on,
and the door finally opened. Her eyes were all red and puffy. “What’s wrong
with you?” he asked. She held up her finger but said nothing and walked over to
the closet. She pulled out a suitcase and that nearly stopped his heart. “What
are you doing?”

“It’s the surprise,” she said, sniffling as she unzipped the
suitcase.

“Isabel, I really don’t care about the surprise right now. I
asked you a question.”

“Stop calling me that,” she said as she opened the suitcase with
gifts wrapped in it. “I don’t remember exactly what I was dreaming about, but I
think it had to do with Thanksgiving.”

“And Elliot,” he said, the hurt and anger rising in him. “You
called him baby.”

She looked up at him now. At first her brows pinched in anger;
then it seemed to come to her and she smiled. “He was in my dream, but I wasn’t
calling
him
baby.”

Romero’s jaw nearly dropped open. She’d just admitted she was
dreaming of the asshole and she was smiling?
Smiling!
“You dream of him
a lot, Isabel?”

“No,” she said firmly and yanked the gift bags out of the
suitcase roughly. “And I told you to stop calling me that. I don’t care what I
said in my dream. You should know by now you have nothing to be worried about.”

“Nothing to be worried about? What am I supposed to think?” She
was looking around the room and found what apparently was more important than
what he was saying: the only thing she’d taken off last night besides her shoes—her
bra. So he raised his voice, feeling completely exasperated. “Are you even
listening to me?”

“Yes, I am,” she said, slipping the bra on under her blouse like
a ninja. He’d seen her do it that way so many times even in front of the kids. “But
I’m not gonna argue with you because in a few minutes you’ll know why you have
nothing to worry about and why I can finally tell you what’s been making me act
so weird for weeks.”

She picked up the gift bags and held out her hand to him. Somehow
he didn’t think anything in those bags could make him believe he had nothing to
worry about. “We need to talk about this,” he said, standing in place.

In a minute, they’d be out of the bedroom and downstairs with his
uncles. He still had no explanation about why his wife would be dreaming about
the asshole who was obviously into her. She’d only confirmed she
had
been dreaming of him.

“We will,” she assured him. “But, please, for right now, let’s go
downstairs. I can hardly wait for you to see this.”

Grudgingly, he took the few steps toward her and let her slip her
hand in his. They walked downstairs, and even with the kids calling out to them
to see everything they’d already opened from Manny and Max, Romero just wasn’t
feeling it.

After wowing and gasping at some of the things the kids showed
her, Isabel sat down on the floor and patted the spot next to her for Romero to
take a seat. “Okay, everyone,” she said. “Let’s stop opening all those gifts so
we can open the ones I got for you first.” The kids clapped their hands,
staring at the bags in her hand. “First you, Amanda.” She handed Mandy the gift
bag.

Even as his heart still pummeled, Romero watched his daughter dig
in yanking all the tissue out. Amanda pulled out a San Diego Padres jersey, one
of the expensive kinds that Izzy had always discouraged Romero from buying the
kids because she said they were too expensive and they’d only grow out of them.
She even had it personalized with the name Romero on the back and the number
one. Romero could tell his daughter wasn’t all that excited about it, but she
smiled anyway then dug in the bag again. She pulled a red T-shirt out this time
that read “Big sister, Amanda.” with Christmas lights all around the lettering.

Again, Amanda didn’t look overly impressed, and Romero had to
wonder what else was in the bag because Isabel was smiling a little too much
for such seemingly simple gifts. To his surprise, there was nothing else in the
bag. “Okay, your turn, Romeo,” she said, handing him his bag.

Romeo tore through the bag, pulling out his own matching Padres
jersey. It was personalized just like Amanda’s, only his had the number two. He
went to pull out the next gift, and Romero fully expected it to be a T-shirt
just like Amanda’s. Instead, he pulled out some kind of plaque.

“Read it,” Isabel said with a big smile.

“I’ve . . . b-be-been . . . p-p-r-o . . . pro—”

“I’ll read it,” Amanda said, scooting over and taking a look.

“Thank you!” Manny said, loud and exasperated, and Isabel gave
him a sharp look. His uncle pointed at the tree just as annoyed. “I’m just
saying we still have all these other gifts to open. We’re gonna be here all day
with this kid.”

“I’ve been promoted,” Amanda said then looked up at Izzy
confused. “What does that mean?”

“You’ll see in a minute. But first, it’s Daddy’s turn.”

She handed Romero the bigger bag, and he took it, still not
feeling the least bit jolly, but he’d go along with this for the sake of the
kids, who were watching anxiously. No surprise he got a jersey too. His was
also personalized with the number fifteen.

He was about to ask when she lifted an eyebrow and it hit him.
Their wedding day. Normally that would’ve made him smirk. At that moment, all
he could think of was the irony. Never in the entire time he’d been married to
Izzy had he ever felt such uncertainty about things between them.

“Whose number is that?” Manny asked. “Gwynn?”

“Nah, Gwynn was eighteen,” Max said.

“It’s the day we got married,” Romero said, reaching into the bag
but still looking up at his uncles when he pulled out the next item. “And Tony
Gwynn’s number was nineteen. Get it right.”

Looking down at the next gift he’d pulled from the bag, he
stopped, confused. At first, he thought maybe Isabel had mistakenly put Romeo’s
Padres T-shirt in his bag, but it was too small even for him. It took a moment
to register that it wasn’t even a T-shirt. It was a baby onesie.

“Turn it around,” Isabel said, her lip quivering.

When he did, he saw it was also personalized with their last name
and it had a number three. He looked up at Izzy as her surprise sunk in. Her
hands were at her mouth now, and her eyes completely welled. Then she looked
down suddenly. “Oh, Romeo you have one more. Open it quickly.”

“Izzy—” Romero began to ask but was interrupted when Amanda read
Romeo’s T-shirt out loud.