Grace's POV
I could feel the tension crackling between Carlos and Miguel, though I couldn't pinpoint why. The last thing I wanted was a scene in public, so I pressed my palm against Carlos's chest, trying to soothe him. "You need to get to the office now, Carlos. There's still work waiting for you."
"Leave you here alone? Not happening," Carlos shot back, his jaw set. "I'm staying right here with you."
"Carlos..." I exhaled slowly. "This is about my divorce. Don't worry about me—I can catch an Uber back to the apartment."
"But—"
"Carlos." I sharpened my tone, knowing he'd argue forever if I let him.
I shook my head firmly, silently urging him to go before we got stuck in this pointless standoff.
Carlos's teeth ground together as he fixed Miguel with a deadly stare. "Don't you fucking dare lay a finger on her, Miguel."
"Bit dramatic, don't you think?" Miguel replied coolly. "We're in a crowded cafe, and I'm not some street thug who manhandles people's girlfriends."
