31. Lena
We both chuckle, and he has not stormed off, so that is a good sign. I hold onto my purse strap as if it’s a lifeline.
Since this frantic plan to let Rico know I love him came about, I have had alternating moments of hope and panic. And yet, no one has been more surprised than me that there has been a lot less panic involved with my plan to move to the other side of the world for love.
The only bittersweetness has come from having Meche’s and Monse’s help to pack up my flat, and knowing I’ll miss them and those weeding parties terribly. But even saying goodbye to my parents’ gravestones because I met a man who both grounds me and helps me soar felt like an unburdening—like ushering in the kind of life I’m sure they would be happy to see me go after.
Transitioning all my classes to online and adjusting my lecture and projects schedule have been the least of my worries. Now I have to get the words out for Rico. For us.
His sisters assured me that the element of surprise was the way to go. But walking up to him at the end of the street, him with his easy confidence and intent eyes, I certainly questioned my methods.
Now I stand before Rico, and there is a beat of silence. Not knowing what he will say has me calling on every brave cell in my body. I squint from the sunlight and take a step toward the tree shade and closer to him.
“You—you are probably wondering what I’m doing here.”
“Oh, I know.”
“You do?”
“To take a tour, no? I don’t see anyone else here clamoring for me to recount the Rogativa legend.” Rico gestures at the statue but suddenly stops. His eyes narrow on my neck. I have not taken off the torch charm necklace since I found it.
I go to put my hand around it as I have started doing every time my confidence fades, but Rico closes the distance between us to stare at it in his hand. His jaw clenches as his hand grazes my neck. My eyes close. I can’t help leaning in.
Please let him hear me out and know these are the words of my heart.
We are so close now. I open my eyes as Rico lets go of the tiny torch. He does not step away, but, after another lingering glance at my neck, he does look down, rubbing the back of his head.
I swallow and open my mouth to say what I came to say, but he blurts out, “I’m unhappy with you, profesora . Three weeks and four days. You didn’t text, call, or even send a coldly formal email?”
“I—I wanted to.” He tilts his head in question. “But what was I supposed to say? ‘This might sound random, but you were right, and I miss you like crazy’?”
His eyes shoot up to mine. “Um, yes. I would’ve been on the next flight.”
A small huff escapes me, and I shake my head. “Well, now I am here.”
“And why’s that?” His hand reaches out to me.
“To thank you for my own torch?”
Rico drops his hand and mutters, “I think I’ve had enough of your gratitude.”
I am scrambling, I know. He tenses when I grab both of his hands.
“Federico. I am sorry. I’m sorry I left like that and that I didn’t reach out for so long. It kills me that even for one second you felt you were not more than worthy of me staying.” I squeeze his hands. “If I were a braver woman, I would have told you weeks ago.” I swallow. “You have my whole heart. I—I love you.” He closes his eyes and slowly lets out a breath. I continue, “I just had not realized that, once I left—without you, I am effectively homeless. You are my home, one like I have never known before.” My voice catches, and Rico squeezes my hands. I fix my gaze on his and straighten when I say, “But I am brave enough to ask you to let me prove to you every day how much I will stay. Stay to be your safe place, stay to remind you how worthy you are, stay to push you, stay to march side by side.” I let go of his hand to gesture at the statue and its figures, torches alight, holding their ground, together, whatever the odds.
Rico groans softly and grasps my face with both hands, firm but gentle. My teary eyes search his, and I place my hands on his wrists, keeping them there. “Please? Torches and all.”
Pressing his lips together, he lifts his gaze heavenward as he sighs out, “Now it’s my turn to say this is too much.”
I nod forcefully. “I want ‘too much.’ Don’t you?”
Rico huffs a chuckle. “With you? I want it all. I love you, Lena. So much.” My arms go up and around his neck as he grabs me by the waist, pulling me against him.
Out of nowhere, a group of tourists on segways makes an obnoxious entrance, zooming on the cobblestones, reminding us that it might be a slow day, but we are very much in public.
Rico glances behind him to the city walls and grabs my hand to lead us into the privacy of a garita , one of the emblematic domed turrets where sentries would look out over the bay.
As we adjust to both the darkness the tiny window affords and a musty scent, Rico mumbles, “Ignore the smell.” He turns his baseball hat backwards, and we lock on to each other as we had been.
If our first kiss was one of joyous giving in, this one is an aching homecoming. The tenderest of words are said without speaking as our lips press and promise.
Just as my heart might burst, Rico pauses and pulls back. Hands grasping my face again, he stares at me in awe. I reassure him, “I am not going anywhere.”
He slowly grins. “Well good, because I’d have to follow wherever you go, and I like it here.”
“I would follow you too, but I like it here too.” I look at my watch significantly. “In fact, I have a real estate viewing later today over at Calle San Justo.”
Rico shakes his head, smiling. “San Justo? Wow, my sisters really do spill everything. It might be out of budget, though.”
“It would not be . . . with a partner.” I grin at him and place my hands on his chest as he wraps his arms around me, placing a quick kiss on my forehead.
“Hmm, I don’t know. I’ve heard it’s best to go it alone.”
I chuckle and hug him back, nuzzling my face in his neck, never wanting to let go. “Oh no. Much, much better with someone. With you.”
“You’ll be tied down? All in? Ready to grow some deep roots?”
My eyes widen, and I nod my head emphatically, desperate tears springing up. Scene after scene of a life of love-chaos with Rico flashes in my mind. True success, true fulfillment, true legacy. I whisper out my heart’s true desire: “To be tethered to you is all I want.”
Rico groans in approval as he wraps his arms around my waist, lifting and pressing me to him. “‘Tethered’ is the right word, profesora .”