All Chapters of The Wrong Bernardi: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

By the next afternoon, my kitchen smelled like lemon, olive oil, garlic, and one polite decision that was probably going to cost me more than dessert.I stood at the kitchen island with my hair clipped up badly, a few strands still falling around my face because apparently even my hair refused to cooperate with authority. A white apron was tied around my waist, and three lemons sat in front of me like they were about to be interviewed for an important position.Outside the big windows, evening settled slowly over the ocean.The sky was still pale blue, but the light had started turning gold across the countertops. The terrace door was cracked open. Salty air drifted inside with the sound of children out on the street—small wheels rolling over pavement, laughter, and the occasional horn I had become extremely familiar with.BEEP.I stopped zesting the lemon.BEEP. BEEP.“AIDEN!” I yelled from the kitchen.“THAT WASN’T ME!” Aiden yelled back from somewhere in the distance.Then the horn

Rhysand Bernadi stood in front of me.A rare event that should’ve been documented, dated, and celebrated by the de Cruz family every year with champagne.The lemon olive oil cake was still in both my hands. Most of the warmth had faded, but the cardboard edges pressed hard enough into my palms to confirm I wasn’t hallucinating from tasting too much glaze.Rhysand was actually standing in the doorway.Of the new mansion.A few houses down from mine.His white shirt was open at the collar, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and his dark hair fell slightly over his forehead like he hadn’t decided whether he was greeting a guest or had just stepped out of a watch commercial designed to make other men feel unsuccessful.His face was far too calm for someone who had just destroyed my entire understanding of normal neighbors.I stared.My dignity stood several feet behind me and chose not to get involved.“Why so quiet, neighbor?” One corner of his mouth lifted.I blinked a few times.“You’re

In my house, normal meant a four-year-old driving a black sports car through the living room in pajamas while making engine noises the car was already making for him.“VROOOOM—MOVE, ELMO!”“I’m carrying rice, you tiny psycho!”I closed the front door just as Elma jumped aside with a large serving bowl in both hands. Aiden’s car zipped past her, its little headlights glowing, then took a dangerously sharp turn near the legs of the console table.He’d had his bath.At least that part had worked.His black hair was still damp and combed forward, though his fringe had already fallen messily across his forehead again. Dark blue race-car pajamas stretched over his chubby little body. His cheeks were pink from the warm water, one foot was bare, and his left sock had somehow slid all the way down to his heel.He gripped the steering wheel with the expression of a man fleeing international law enforcement.“Aiden de Cruz.”His head turned, but the car kept moving.“Aiden, mira al frente.”He s

I woke up with one small regret sitting beside my pillow like an uninvited guest.Put on a shirt.Two words.Two stupid words I never should’ve sent to an engaged man, my new neighbor, the possible biological father of my child, and the most irritating human being ever to stand shirtless on a terrace eating lemon olive oil cake like it was protected by the Constitution.I lay there staring at the bedroom ceiling for a full five seconds.Then ten.Then I pulled the blanket up to my chin.It wasn’t flirting.No.It was social commentary.A concern for neighborhood decency. Civic duty. I was a responsible citizen. If a man decided to display his chest and abdominal muscles from a terrace visible four houses away, someone had to remind him that humanity had invented clothing shortly after we stopped living in caves.I wasn’t flirting.I was advocating for fabric.My phone sat facedown on the nightstand. I didn’t touch it. I didn’t need to.I already knew I hadn’t blocked that number becau

At 6:35, I stood in my bedroom wearing a simple black dress that fell just below my knees, a cream blazer over my shoulders, my hair pulled into a neat low style, nude lipstick, and small gold earrings.Not too formal.Not too evening.Professional enough for a planning dinner, sharp enough to cut through the Marie family ego if necessary.Aiden stood in my doorway wearing dinosaur pajamas it was far too early for, but he’d already picked them because, according to him, “I’m going to be tired later.”“Why is Mami leaving again?”“Work.”“To Car Uncle’s house?”I stopped fastening my watch.He watched me with wide blue eyes and a slight pout.“Elma,” I called.“I didn’t hear anything. I’m emotionally unavailable,” Elma yelled back from the hallway.I looked at Aiden. “I’m going to Mr. Bernadi’s house for work. There’s a dinner.”“He’s Car Uncle.”“To you. To me, he’s a client.”“Does he have cake?”“He already has cake.”“I want cake.”“You already had dessert.”“That was yogurt.”“Tha