Chapter 11

The Sunset Manor Care Facility was a far cry from the opulent penthouse they'd left behind, but Sophia had never felt more nervous walking into a five star restaurant than she did approaching the modest building in Queens. Ethan had insisted they take his car, but she'd made him park around the corner, not wanting to draw attention with the sleek black Tesla.

"You're sure about this?" she asked as they walked toward the entrance. "She's not... she's not always lucid. Sometimes she doesn't remember things, or she gets confused about what year it is."

"I'm sure," Ethan said, his hand finding hers. "Whatever happens, I want to be here."

The lobby smelled like disinfectant and cafeteria food, a stark contrast to the world they'd been living in. Sophia signed them in at the front desk, her hands trembling slightly as she wrote both their names in the visitor log.

"Miss Martinez," called a familiar voice. Janet, one of the day nurses, approached with a warm smile. "Your mother's been so excited since she got your call. She's been asking everyone if they think her hair looks nice."

"How is she today?" Sophia asked, though she could guess from the nurse's expression that it was one of the good days.

"Alert and chatty. She's been telling everyone about your engagement." Janet's eyes moved curiously to Ethan, taking in his expensive clothes and confident bearing. "You must be the fiancé."

"Ethan Blackwell," he said, extending his hand. "Thank you for taking such good care of Mrs. Martinez."

"Oh, we love Maria. She's one of our favorites." Janet beamed at him. "She's in the garden room. Follow me."

As they walked down the hallway, Sophia felt her anxiety spike. Her mother had been asking about the engagement, but what would she think when she met Ethan? What if she saw through their charade? What if she didn't approve?

"Breathe," Ethan murmured, squeezing her hand. "It's going to be fine."

The garden room was a bright, cheerful space with large windows overlooking a small courtyard. Maria Martinez sat in her favorite chair by the window, her gray hair freshly styled and her best dress carefully chosen. At sixty-eight, she still had traces of the beauty that had captivated Sophia's father, though the illness had taken its toll.

"Mija!" Maria's face lit up when she saw Sophia. "You came!"

"Of course I came, Mama." Sophia rushed to her mother's side, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "How are you feeling?"

"Good, good. But tell me about this young man." Maria's sharp eyes had already fixed on Ethan, who stood respectfully at a distance. "Is this him? Is this the one who wants to marry my daughter?"

"Mama, this is Ethan." Sophia gestured for him to come closer. "Ethan, this is my mother, Maria."

"Mrs. Martinez," Ethan said, approaching with that careful respect he'd shown at the Whitney. "It's an honor to meet you."

"Honor, he says." Maria laughed, but her eyes were assessing. "Come here, let me look at you."

Ethan moved closer, and Maria reached out to take his hands in hers. Her touch was gentle but firm, and Sophia watched as her mother studied Ethan's face with the intensity she'd once brought to reading people's fortunes.

"You have kind eyes," Maria said finally. "But sad eyes too. What makes you sad, young man?"

The question was so direct, so unexpected, that Sophia saw Ethan's composure falter for just a moment. "I... I've made mistakes in my life, Mrs. Martinez. Hurt people I shouldn't have hurt."

"We all make mistakes. The question is what you do about them." Maria's grip on his hands tightened. "What have you done about yours?"

"I'm trying to be better. Your daughter is helping me be better."

"Good answer." Maria released his hands and sat back in her chair. "Sophia, bring me some tea. I want to talk to this boy alone."

"Mama, I don't think.."

"I can handle myself," Ethan said quietly. "If your mother wants to talk to me, I'd be honored."

Sophia hesitated, then nodded. "I'll be right back."

As she walked toward the small kitchenette in the corner, she could hear her mother's voice, though she couldn't make out the words. Whatever Maria was saying, Ethan was listening intently, occasionally nodding or responding in low tones.

"Your mother's protective," Janet observed, joining Sophia at the tea station. "That's a good sign that she's having a clear day."

"She's always been protective. Even when she was sick, she worried about me." Sophia arranged cookies on a plate with shaking hands. "I just hope she likes him."

"Hard to tell yet. But he seems like a good one. Patient, respectful. And the way he looks at you..." Janet smiled. "That's a man in love if I've ever seen one."

When Sophia returned with the tea, she found Ethan and her mother deep in conversation. Maria was telling him about her life in Puerto Rico, about coming to New York as a young woman, about raising Sophia alone after her husband's death.

"She was so smart, even as a little girl," Maria was saying. "Always with her nose in a book, always asking questions. I knew she'd do something important with her life."

"She's the most remarkable woman I've ever met," Ethan said, accepting the tea Sophia offered him. "You should be very proud."

"I am proud. But I'm also worried." Maria's eyes sharpened again. "This world you live in, this rich man's world it's not kind to girls like my Sophia."

"Mama..." Sophia started, but Maria waved her off.

"Let me finish. I've seen what happens when our people try to fit into places we don't belong. They change us, make us forget who we are."

"I would never want Sophia to change," Ethan said firmly. "I fell in love with exactly who she is."

"Love." Maria repeated the word thoughtfully. "You love her?"

"Very much."

"And you, mija? Do you love him?"

Sophia felt heat rise in her cheeks. "Yes, Mama. I do."

"Then why do you both look so scared?"

The question hung in the air. Sophia glanced at Ethan, seeing her own surprise reflected in his eyes. Her mother might have early-stage dementia, but she was still sharp enough to read people.

"Because love is scary," Sophia said finally. "Because we come from different worlds, and we don't know if we can make it work."

"Pah." Maria dismissed this with a wave of her hand. "You think your father and I came from the same world? He was a college boy, I was a seamstress. He spoke perfect English, I could barely order coffee without an accent. But we loved each other, and we made it work."

"It's not the same thing, Mama. Ethan is..."

"Rich? Powerful? So what? Money doesn't make someone a good husband. Character does." Maria leaned forward, fixing Ethan with an intense stare. "Tell me, young man, what kind of husband do you want to be?"

"The kind who puts his wife first," Ethan said without hesitation. "The kind who supports her dreams and protects her happiness. The kind who never takes her for granted."

"And what if she wants to keep working? What if she doesn't want to be just a rich man's wife?"

"Then I'll support that too. Sophia's intelligence and passion are part of what I love about her. I'd never want to diminish that."

Maria nodded slowly. "Good. Because my daughter is not a decoration for your arm. She's a force of nature, and she needs a man who can handle that."

"I'm learning to handle it," Ethan said with a small smile. "She keeps me on my toes."

"She should." Maria sat back, seemingly satisfied. "Now, tell me about this engagement party tomorrow night. Are you nervous?"

"A little," Sophia admitted. "It's a big event, lots of important people. I'm worried about saying the wrong thing."

"You won't say the wrong thing because you're not pretending to be someone you're not. You're being yourself, and that's enough." Maria reached for Sophia's hand. "But I want to give you something."

She fumbled with the small jewelry box on her side table, pulling out a delicate gold necklace with a small pendant. "This was my mother's, and her mother's before that. I've been saving it for your wedding day, but I want you to have it now."

"Mama, I can't take this. What if I lose it?"

"You won't lose it. And even if you did, it's just a thing. What matters is that you remember where you came from, no matter how high you rise."

Sophia felt tears prick her eyes as her mother fastened the necklace around her throat. The pendant was small and worn, nothing like the expensive jewelry Ethan had been buying her, but it felt more precious than diamonds.

"Thank you, Mama."

"And you," Maria turned to Ethan. "I want you to promise me something."

"Anything."

"Promise me that if you hurt her, you'll have to answer to me. And I might be old and sick, but I'm scrappy."

Ethan's lips twitched. "I promise, Mrs. Martinez. Though I hope that won't be necessary."

"Good. Now, I'm tired, and you two have a big day tomorrow. But before you go, I want you to know that I like you, young man. You're good for my daughter."

"She's good for me too," Ethan said quietly.

"I can see that. You look at her like she hung the moon."

"She kind of did."

As they prepared to leave, Maria pulled Sophia aside while Ethan was gathering their things.

"He's not what I expected," she whispered.

"What did you expect?"

"Someone arrogant, someone who thought he was better than us. But he's hurting, that one. Something's broken inside him."

"How can you tell?"

"I've lived long enough to recognize pain when I see it. But I also see how you heal him, mija. You make him softer, kinder. That's a gift."

"I love him, Mama."

"I know you do. And he loves you, even if he's terrified of it. Just... be careful. Men like him, they're not used to real love. They don't trust it easily."

"I'll be careful."

"Good. Now go. And remember you're a Martinez. We might not have money, but we have something more valuable. We have heart, and we have each other."

The drive back to Manhattan was quiet, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Ethan spoke.

"Your mother is incredible."

"She likes you. That's not something that happens often."

"I was terrified she wouldn't approve."

"Why?"

"Because her opinion matters to you, and your opinion matters to me." He glanced at her. "What she said about me being broken—she's not wrong."

"We're all broken in some way. That doesn't make you less worthy of love."

"Doesn't it? I've done things, Sophia. Made choices that hurt people. What if you decide you can't live with that?"

"What if you decide you can't live with my mother's medical bills? What if you decide you can't live with a girlfriend who works sixty-hour weeks and has strong opinions about everything?"

"That's different."

"Is it? We all have baggage, Ethan. The question is whether we're willing to help each other carry it."

He was quiet for a long moment. "Are you? Willing to help me carry mine?"

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"You're here."

"And tomorrow night, we're going to that party together. As a team."

"As a team," he agreed. "Though I should warn you Isabella's engagement parties are legendary. It's going to be intense."

"How intense?"

"Think the Met Gala, but with more family drama."

"Great. No pressure."

"Hey." He reached over and took her hand. "Your mother was right about one thing. You don't need to pretend to be someone you're not. You're perfect exactly as you are."

"Perfect seems like a strong word."

"Perfect for me, then."

As they pulled up to the penthouse, Sophia felt a flutter of nerves about tomorrow night. But underneath the anxiety was something stronger a sense of rightness, of being exactly where she belonged.

"Ethan?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for wanting to meet her. For asking her permission. For treating her with respect."

"Thank you for letting me. For trusting me with something so important to you."

"She's all the family I have left."

"No," he said quietly. "She's not."

The words hung between them, heavy with promise and possibility. Tomorrow night would bring new challenges, new complications. But tonight, they were home, and they were together, and that was enough.

"Come on," Sophia said, opening the car door. "Let's go plan how to survive Isabella's engagement party."

"Together?"

"Together."

As they walked toward the building, Sophia touched the small pendant at her throat, feeling the weight of her mother's love and wisdom. She was a Martinez, and Martinezes didn't back down from challenges.

Even challenges that involved facing the woman who'd once broken the heart of the man she loved.

Especially those challenges.