Chapter 3 - Five Years Without Mateo
Mateo had not gone to Hazel's Table looking for Hazel.
That fact would matter later.
At that moment, it felt impossible.
He had been traveling to Madison for a business meeting when his driver mentioned a restaurant recommended by a client.
“Best braised beef I've had outside Chicago.”
Mateo almost ignored him.
Then he saw the sign.
HAZEL'S TABLE.
There were thousands of Hazels.
He knew that.
Still, something pulled tight inside his chest.
“Stop.”
His driver looked in the mirror.
“Here?”
“Here.”
Five years had not erased Hazel Brooks.
They had simply taught Mateo how to function around the empty place she left behind.
He had called the night she walked out.
Again.
Again.
Again.
By morning, he knew she had turned off her phone.
By afternoon, his investigators had confirmed something worse.
Hazel had not helped Caleb.
The name Mateo heard on that final phone call belonged to Adrian Vale, one of his own financial managers.
Adrian had given Caleb access.
Adrian had manipulated him.
Adrian had known Caleb's debts.
Mateo had tried to find Hazel immediately.
But she had already left Chicago.
When he finally traced her to Milwaukee weeks later, he stopped himself.
Why?
Because Hazel had made her wishes brutally clear through his attorney.
Nothing.
She wanted nothing tied to his name.
Mateo told himself respecting that choice was the first decent thing he could do for her.
He didn't know she had tried to contact him.
He didn't know one of Adrian's last acts before disappearing had been to compromise Mateo's email accounts and communications.
He didn't know Hazel had called.
And he certainly didn't know about Luca.
Until he walked into the restaurant.
The boy was sitting in a corner booth drawing dinosaurs.
Mateo noticed him because the child was staring.
Children often stared at Mateo's tattoos.
This was different.
The boy narrowed his eyes.
Mateo stopped.
It was such a familiar expression that for one disorienting second he saw his own father.
Then the child said:
“You have my eyes.”
Mateo almost smiled.
“Do I?”
The boy nodded.
“Gray.”
“So they are.”
“Mom says mine look like storm clouds.”
Mateo's chest tightened.
Mom.
Before he could ask anything, the kitchen door opened.
Hazel appeared.
Five years disappeared.
She was fuller than before.
Her brown hair was twisted into the same loose bun she had worn while cooking at his home.
Flour dusted one cheek.
Her apron stretched across her soft, full figure.
She looked stronger.
Older.
Beautiful.
Terrified.
“Mateo.”
He had imagined hearing his name in her voice again.
Never like that.
His gaze moved from Hazel to the boy.
Back.
Hazel saw the calculation.
“No.”
Mateo's face changed.
“How old is he?”
“Don't.”
“How old?”
Luca looked between them.
“I'm five.”
Hazel closed her eyes.
Mateo stopped breathing.
Five.
The math required no effort.
“When?”
Hazel's expression hardened.
“This is my restaurant.”
“When were you going to tell me?”
“You told me to take nothing tied to your name.”
Mateo flinched.
“Hazel.”
“You said it.”
“I was angry.”
“And I was pregnant.”
The dining room seemed to disappear.
Mateo stared at her.
“You knew?”
“That morning.”
“You knew that night?”
“Yes.”
“And you walked out without telling me?”
“You looked me in the face and asked if you knew me.”
His anger collided with guilt.
“I found out you were innocent the same night.”
“I didn't know that.”
“I called you.”
“I turned off my phone.”
“I searched.”
“You didn't find me.”
“I did.”
Hazel froze.
“When?”
“Milwaukee.”
Her face changed.
“You knew where I was?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn't come?”
“You told my attorney you wanted nothing from me.”
“I meant money!”
“I thought you meant me.”
The words silenced them both.
Luca climbed down from the booth.
“Mom?”
Hazel immediately softened.
“It's okay, sweetheart.”
“Are you fighting?”
“No.”
Mateo looked at the child.
His son.
Possibly.
Almost certainly.
He wanted to kneel.
Touch him.
Ask five years of questions at once.
Instead, he remained still.
“What is his name?”
Hazel hesitated.
“Luca.”
Mateo closed his eyes briefly.
Luca.
His grandfather's name.
Hazel remembered.
That hurt more than anything.
“Luca Brooks?”
“Yes.”
The boy looked at Mateo.
“Who are you?”
Hazel inhaled.
Mateo waited.
This answer belonged to her.
Hazel crouched beside her son.
“Remember when you asked about your father?”
Luca nodded.
Hazel looked at Mateo.
“This is Mateo.”
Luca's small forehead wrinkled.
Then understanding arrived slowly.
“My dad?”
Mateo's composure nearly broke.
Hazel nodded.
Luca stared.
Mateo lowered himself to one knee.
He kept distance between them.
“Hi, Luca.”
The boy examined him with grave concentration.
“Were you lost?”
Mateo looked at Hazel.
“Yes,” he said.
“In a way.”
Luca accepted this.
Children sometimes understood complicated truths better when adults stopped decorating them.
“Do you like dinosaurs?”
Mateo almost laughed.
“I don't know enough about them.”
“I can teach you.”
Hazel turned away.
She couldn't watch.
Mateo stayed for thirty minutes.
He did not demand anything.
That surprised Hazel.
Before leaving, he asked:
“Can I see him again?”
Hazel folded her arms.
“We need to talk first.”
“Agreed.”
“Without Luca.”
“Agreed.”
“And Mateo?”
“Yes?”
“You don't get to walk into his life and start making decisions.”
His expression tightened.
“I understand.”
“No, you don't. But you will.”
Mateo nodded.
“When?”
“Tomorrow. After closing.”
He left.
Hazel locked the restaurant early.
That night, Luca asked seventeen questions.
Was Mateo rich?
Did Mateo cook?
Did Mateo know superheroes?
Why didn't Mateo know dinosaurs?
Why had he been lost for five years?
Hazel answered what she could.
At 10:43 p.m., after Luca fell asleep, someone knocked on the apartment door above the restaurant.
Hazel assumed Mateo had returned.
She opened it angrily.
“You couldn't wait until—”
The hallway was empty.
A small envelope lay on the floor.
Her name was written across it.
Hazel opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Caleb.
Alive.
Older.
Standing beside a gas station.
On the back were five words:
May you like
HE'S READY TO TELL YOU.
Then Hazel heard footsteps coming up the stairs...
