Juan stood up while I froze, like a statue, in front of him.

“Hello,” he said as if he’d seen me a few hours ago. No kisses or hugs. “I’m waiting for your father.”

Silvia was still talking behind me, but her last thought died mid-sentence when she spotted Juan.

My Juan.

I felt oddly possessive of him when I saw the way Silvia curled a strand of hair around her fingers.

“Does he know you’re here?” I said, equally cold as him.

He eyed Silvia. Men often liked her. She wasn’t beautiful—not in the classical sense—but she had a way of swaying her hips when she walked and slightly touching men’s arms in conversation that simply drew them in, as if casting a spell.

“No. The cook—Rosita?—said he went horseback riding.”

I couldn’t believe it. He’d almost forgotten Rosita’s name even though she’d been around since the beginning of humanity. Had he forgotten my name, too?

The arrogance!

Silvia turned her head toward me and one of her eyebrows arched up, questioning me. Was I this obvious? I had to get a hold of myself. Yes, Juan was better looking than most men in our circle and I’d loved him since we were kids, but look at him. His clothes were ancient. The fabric of his collar and sleeves was falling apart from all the washing and his tie was at least three seasons old.

The hostess in me was telling me to offer him a drink, but Silvia’s stern eye warned me not to dare.

“Well, why don’t you wait for him in the kitchen?” I said, dismissive. With that maid whose name nearly escapes you. “Come on, querida,” I told Silvia, and guided her to the dining room without another glance at Juan.

With every one of my steps, I felt more ashamed of myself. I couldn’t believe I’d spoken to him that way when all these years I’d been eager to see him again and feel his arms around me.

But he’d been so cold.

My throat was scratchy. I’d ruined everything.

“Who was that?” Silvia said, and I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

I shrugged, horrified to feel my eyes watery and burning. I would not cry in front of Silvia.

“Just one of our neighbors.” Speaking hurt my throat more.

“Why haven’t I met him?”

“He was gone for a while, traveling I think.” I didn’t want to get into details, not with her. Not when I saw the way she’d looked at him, even if now she was pretending to be uninterested.

“Well, he seemed a little rude.”

Even Silvia had noticed.