Love Lessons

Chapter Eight Lime

Chapter Eight Lime

Valerie

“What gym do you go to?” she asked a few days later while the children were working quietly on the letter S at their desks. She’d asked them to think of as many words with the letter S as they could, sound them out in their mind, and write them down. They all looked so cute when they thought hard: their eyes

squeezed together; some had their tongues out; others looked up at the ceiling; one girl was wrapping a long strand of hair

around her finger over and over. Valerie could see the proverbial light bulb beaming over their heads.

“Gym? I don’t go to the gym.”

“But you always carry around a gym bag.”

“Oh, no. I go straight to my parents’ old home. I’m remodeling it before I sell it.”

“Those cardigans don’t scream handyman.”

He looked down. “Sweater. Not cardigan,” he corrected her. He alternated between blazers and sweaters. Today the sweater was navy. It worked on him, for some reason. “I’m not. Or, rather, I wasn’t. I’ve been watching DIYs. It’s a pet project I stupidly decided to tackle when summer began. I was going to fix a few things, and now I’ve pretty much gutted the entire house. I may have gotten in over my head, but in for a penny...”

“Really? Where’s this house?”

“It’s in Coral Gables. It’s old as hell.”

“And you mentioned your mother—is she still alive?”

“She is, but she couldn’t live alone anymore and moved into an assisted living facility. It’s good because she has friends

there and people taking care of her, but she still has some independence. I try to visit her at least once a week.”

“Does she know about him?” she asked, and pointed to her belly.

“No. I didn’t want to say anything until you were sure what you were going to do. She’s going to be so happy when I tell her.

Actually, I’m going on Sunday. You want to come?”

“Me?! Oh no. I’m good,” she said, actually pushing her chair back and standing up.

He laughed. “She doesn’t bite. She’s a tiny old lady. You’ll have to meet her at some point. She’ll be the baby’s grandmother,

you know?”

With a roll of her eyes, she said, “Obviously. But how’s she going to take it that we’re not together? You said you grew up

with your parents married and that was your expectation, so...”

“She’ll be fine. If I’m happy, she’s happy. How about your mom? Have you told her?”

“No!”

“Shhh... Ms. Marquez, I’m trying to concentrate,” one of the boys at the front of the class said. He had been chewing on the top of his pencil, and his paper was full of scribbles as far as she could see.

“Oops. Sorry. We’ll whisper,” Valerie said, amused.

“That bad, huh?” Andrew whispered.

“I think so. She won’t be cool about it. Her philosophy is not ‘if I’m happy, she’s happy.’ Her philosophy is more practical.

More like ‘What the hell are you going to do raising a child on your own?’?”

“Well, if it helps, I can go with you when you break the news.”

“I wasn’t planning on breaking the news.”

“Ever?”

“Ever,” she said, and he burst out laughing but then covered his mouth. They were being disruptive. When did they become so

chatty? “Oh, wow. You can laugh. I thought joy gave you hives or something.”

“Har-har. Anyway, Sunday? Come on. I’ll make you whatever other abuela recipe you’d like.”

He’d remembered her abuela, and it warmed her heart. She’d never met such an attentive man. He remembered everything she said,

which made it very difficult for Valerie to say no to him. Not that she wanted to. It was nice getting to know him a little

more every day.

“You play dirty, Wexler. Fine, why not? I’ll go with you.”

“Why are you so nervous? She’s going to love you,” Andrew said as they drove into the parking area of his mother’s assisted

living community.

“Why would she? If genetics is anything to go by, she’ll despise me too.”

He laughed. “She’s going to be thrilled. Trust me.”

She let out a huff. “All right, baby daddy. Let’s do this.”

He exited the car and then went around to open her door. He was a gentleman. She’d never really thought she’d be into the

gentlemanly thing, but there was something to be said for it. It was nice. She could open her own car door, of course, and

it was disarming to have it held open for you. Her father would always do those kinds of things for her mother when he wasn’t

drunk. It had been so many years since she’d thought of her parents together, but this small gesture brought back a flood

of good memories.

Her parents had held hands often, they’d kissed and were generally affectionate, and when Sunday night football was on, her

mom and dad sat together in front of the television cheering on the team. Before things had fallen apart, there was a time

when they’d been genuinely happy. She’d forgotten that. When she thought about the future, she never saw someone holding her

hand. With her parents, it was as if the bad years had completely wiped out the good ones. She’d turned into a cynical pessimist

without realizing it, and that needed to stop.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. Yes.” She shook her head and cleared her throat. “Tell me more about your mom. Is she okay? Like, can she walk by herself

and, I don’t know, eat and bathe alone?”

“It’s not a nursing home. It’s an assisted living facility. She wanted to come here. I wanted her to stay home. I even offered to move in with her or pay for someone to help her. She refused. She has friends here. They play bingo and canasta, the meals are prepared for her, and the laundry and cleaning are also included. Once a week she gets her nails and hair done. She can come and go as she pleases, except she doesn’t drive anymore. I’ve tried to teach her how to use the ride-share apps, but that was torture, so I just order a car for her when she needs it. And, when the time comes that she can no longer do things on her own, they also have people who assist with that. It’s actually quite nice. You’ll see.”

“I’ve never met someone who’s so close to their mom, like in a healthy way. I’ve dated some mama’s boys, and that was no fun.”

“I love my mom, but in a normal, non-weird way. She was a good mom, and now it’s my turn to step up and help out. I guess

you’re not close with your mom?”

“I’m close with my mom in the sense that I talk to her every few days and I see her a couple of times a month, but she’s not

the person I call for advice or anything like that. She’s critical. She was raised in Cuba and worked very hard when she got

to America. We don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things.”

“I don’t necessarily call my mother for advice on the daily, but if I have something huge that I need real advice on, yeah,

she’d be the one I call. She’ll tell me the truth, and she’ll call me out on my shit if she needs to. There should always

be people around you willing to tell you the good and the bad, as long as it’s done with the right intentions.”

“Sometimes I just want someone to talk to without the opinions. I call Monique for that. Maybe things will change with my

mom once she sees I’m capable of making good decisions, even if those decisions are different from hers.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing pretty good on your own. I’m sure that when your mom sees that, she’ll agree. Plus, I think everyone strives to do better than the generation before. Like, for instance, my mother always wants to tell me the ‘tea.’ Her word, not mine. I won’t subject my child to the sexual escapades of a few octogenarians when I’m old.”

“Oh my gosh!” Valerie laughed. “That’s the kind of tea I want to know all about.”

They walked in step toward the building. “Sometimes I worry that she’s lonely,” Andrew admitted. “She and Dad were always

together.”

It was so sincere and vulnerable that her heart did a little flip. He was confiding in her, and she wanted to know more. Learning

about him was like watching an episode on National Geographic. She’d never met a man like Andrew, and she wanted to know more.

This wasn’t the kind of conversation enemies had. This was a conversation between friends. The kind of relationship that his

parents had had was something that she only saw on sitcoms. She didn’t know those relationships existed in real life, and

that was the kind of relationship he wanted. It’s what he knew. They’d never, ever work out in the long run as anything other

than friends, because she had no idea how to be the type of woman he needed. She was sure of it.

“So, tell me, is she the kind of mom that’s always asking when you’ll get married and give her grandbabies?”

“Yes,” he said, with a wrinkled nose. “Which is why she’ll be thrilled by the news, even if it’s kind of backward.”

But it wasn’t backward. Backward would mean that he’d knocked her up and they’d have a shotgun wedding or a wed ding at all. In this situation, there’d never be a wedding. She chewed on the corner of her thumbnail. No mother wanted her son to bring home the woman he’d knocked up, especially if there was no real future between them.

“Even if we aren’t together?” She’d asked him this a dozen times already.

“Even if we hated each other for real.”

“So, we hate each other for fake?”

“You don’t hate me, Marquez. And I don’t hate you. We’re going to be the best co-parents to the little hamster.”

She gasped loudly. “Do not call him a hamster.”

“We need a name. I was trying to change it up, and ‘hamster’ was the first thing I thought of because of your pets, which

I now worry about all weekend. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Awww... You worry about Simon and Garfunkel?” She placed her palms on her heart. “That’s sweet.”

“How can I not? They’re stuck in that cage all weekend,” he said. “And it didn’t go unnoticed that you called me sweet.” He

playfully elbowed her side.

“Anyway,” she said, waving him off. “How about Junior? For now, that’s a good name, isn’t it?”

“Junior works for me,” he said. “Have you been feeling any better?”

“Not at all. But I’ll live. I meant to tell you, my ob-gyn appointment is Wednesday, right after work. Is that something you

want to go to?”

“Absolutely,” he said, happier than anyone should be at the mention of an ob-gyn visit. She was glad he was coming. It had been weighing heavily on her, whether to ask him. What if he’d said no? She wanted someone there, just in case something was wrong with Junior. She wasn’t a worrier, by any means, but lately she worried constantly about the little person growing inside of her. She felt an immediate sense of relief that he’d agreed, and that he’d agreed so excitedly. “I don’t know why I hesitated. Of course you’d want to go,” she admitted. She was feeling vulnerable and chatty.

“I don’t know either. I told you I’d be there every step of the way. I don’t want to overstep, though, so you have to tell

me. You have to take the lead on this, Valerie.”

“I will, Andrew. You’re right, and I’m glad you’re coming. I don’t want to go alone.”

“You’re not alone,” he repeated for the umpteenth time since she’d told him she was pregnant. Why was it so hard for her to

believe him? He had been nothing but sincere with her. Even when they fought, he was always forthright.

Andrew hadn’t been exaggerating when he said the assisted living place was nice. It was amazing, and she understood why it

was called the Palace. Now she was curious about the house he’d been remodeling. This facility wasn’t for the average middle-class

aging community.

To the right of the parking lot there were gardens and a huge pond with benches nearby and geese and ducks meandering around. There was also security and nurses strolling about. The ladies she passed on her way inside were all dressed in their Sunday best, and it was obvious by the clothes, jewelry, and the way they carried themselves that they were wealthy. Some even wore big hats and carried purses. She wondered if they were going somewhere or if this was what they wore to hang out at the Palace. Hell, she wanted to hang out at the Palace.

“Jeez, Andrew, this is impressive. I’m starting to think my baby daddy has money.”

He laughed. “Baby daddy’s parents have money. Baby daddy is a teacher and makes the exact same as you do.”

“Oh, man, I shoulda slept with someone with a higher pay grade.”

He laughed and took her hand in his. She froze, and he let it go. Why had he done that? She looked up at him, and he looked

away.

“I—uh—I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.” He hurried forward, awkwardly, and she followed behind. It had been a fleeting

moment, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

Well, she did know how she felt about it. She felt super worried, that’s how she felt. From what she knew thus far of Andrew,

he was practical and well-intentioned. Being with his baby’s mother was the ideal situation, and in his mind, regardless of

whether they loved each other or not, he’d want to be with her because it was the “right” thing to do. That’s what scared

her most. She could see herself catching feelings for Andrew, and she couldn’t think of a worse outcome than spending her

life in a loveless marriage, because he would only be in it out of a sense of obligation.

If it meant doing right by her, he’d get down on his knee and propose. But that wouldn’t be fair to either of them.

Suddenly she was dizzy.

The thought of Andrew in her life, forever. Of meeting Andrew’s mother. Of suddenly having this new extended family.

A baby.

She was overwhelmed and lightheaded.

“Hey, you okay?” He rushed to her side.

“It’s hot, right? So hot,” she said. The nausea hadn’t stopped, and neither had the tiredness. And now with the epiphany she’d

just had, it was all too much. “This place should have trolleys.” She laughed, but there was no humor. There was, however,

a small panic attack about to take flight.

He slowed down and took her hand again, but this time intentionally and out of concern, and he didn’t let go. She squeezed,

holding on to him tightly.

“Why don’t you sit?” he said, and pulled her gently to the nearest bench.

“I don’t need a break from the parking lot to the front door, Wexler. Relax.” But she felt that familiar acidity start to

inch up her esophagus, and she moved to the bench and sat down.

“Nausea?”

“And heartburn. Junior is getting a kick out of this.”

She reached into her purse and took out a bottle of ginger ale. At this point, she was living off Sprite and ginger ale. They

sat in silence for a little while as she sipped the soda. He offered to get her water or call one of the nurses, but she declined.

She just needed to get her bearings and she’d be right as rain again.

Together, they watched an elderly couple walk hand in hand around the pond. They looked like they’d been together a lifetime. Maybe there was an alternate universe in which people married and stayed together forever. One she’d never known. It was such a soothing sight. She wasn’t dumb—the couple could’ve met at the Palace last week for all she knew. But in her mind, they seemed to have a lifetime of shared secrets as they walked together in companionable silence.

“Say something. Anything.” She needed a distraction.

“Ummm... What do you like to do, like for fun?” he asked.

“I like to listen to music or play guitar.”

“That’s very cool. I’ve always wanted to play the drums.”

“I can teach you,” she said. The panic was slowly melting away and so was the nausea. “What do you do for fun? You know, other

than knock up random women?”

“Well, I’ll have you know, the women I knock up are not random. They’re always kindergarten co-teachers,” he said, and she

smiled. He had a way of putting her at ease. “But when I’m not busy with all the extraordinary sex stuff, I like to read,

mostly thrillers.” She laughed and rolled her eyes, but he continued. “I like to cook, and I love to swim. I was actually

on my college swim team. I’m kind of a homebody, but I’ve been known to go hang out with friends, drink a beer or two every

now and again. Though, these days, the renovations on the house have been keeping me busy.”

“If we’re gonna be friends, we need to get to know each other better.”

“Fair enough. How about you? Other than music, what else do you like to do?”

“Well, when I’m not terrorizing the teacher I share a classroom with or listening to music, I love traveling, but I think

the travel bug will have to be put on hold for the time being.”

“You’re not a homebody, so I imagine that will be difficult. You’re the opposite of me—you’re someone who doesn’t like to be contained.” He said this simply as an observation, but it hit her hard. She’d never thought of herself that way. She had always thought of herself as a homebody. She enjoyed her own company; she enjoyed sitting on the couch just listening to classical music with a glass of wine. But she was a people person, and she could only stand being alone for a limited amount of time before she needed the noise of a bar or time with her friends. They really were opposites in every sense of the word.

Spending just a few hours with Andrew brought up too many mixed emotions, epiphanies, and observations. She wasn’t sure she

liked it. “Okay, I feel better,” she said when the dizziness subsided. She was done with this conversation. “I think I’m good.

Let’s get this show back on the road.”

“There’s no rush, Valerie. Let’s just sit here for a while.”

“No. It’s too hot out here. Let’s go. I’m okay now, seriously.” She stood.

“If you’re sure,” he said, and this time he slowed down and they walked together into the building.

Valerie expected there to be a reception area, like at a hospital. But it was set up more like a normal apartment building.

They walked to the elevator, and Andrew pressed the up button. “Better?” he asked, as they stepped inside.

“Yeah, better.” She bit her bottom lip. When was the last time she’d had a meet-the-parents moment? She was good with people,

but this was not just any person. She genuinely wanted Andrew’s mother to like her.

When they reached the third floor, the door opened. From the elevator, she could see all the way down the hall. There was an older woman waving at them. She wore peach-colored linen pants and an off-white linen shirt and a matching peach sweater. Adorable is all Valerie could think, and the nerves just slid right off her like melted butter. “You Wexlers sure like your sweaters.”

As they reached the woman, Valerie could immediately see the resemblance. They had the same eyes, but instead of his usual

scowl, his mother had a big bright smile. “My darling, how are you?” his mother said, holding the door open with her foot.

There was excitement reverberating off her. She clearly adored her Andrew to pieces. She was way more agile than Valerie expected

and didn’t seem like someone who needed any sort of help, although Andrew had mentioned that she’d had a few falls while living

alone and had once left the stove on.

“You didn’t come by last week,” she said. “I missed you.”

“Sorry, Mom. I was busy, and before I knew it, it was Sunday,” he said as he unfolded himself from her embrace.

She looked over his shoulder to Valerie. “You were busy, were you?”

Valerie smiled and extended her hand, but the woman would have none of that. She pulled her in for a warm, tight hug. “Oh,”

Valerie said in surprise. “Uh... Hi. I’m Valerie. Valerie Marquez.”

“I know, dear. Andrew has told me all about you.”

“He has?” she asked, confused. He had said that he hadn’t told his mother about the pregnancy, hadn’t he? She looked at Andrew

over the hug, and he shrugged.

“Of course he did. You’ve made each other’s lives a living hell,” she said with a cheeky smile. “But you know what they say...

there’s a fine line between love and hate.” And with that dousing of cold water, she led them inside her apartment.

“Mom, we’re just friends. Plus, there’s a big, huge line between love and hate.”

“There really is, Mrs. Wexler. It’s the size of the Grand Canyon.”

“I insist you call me Peggy. And he brought you to meet his mother, so there can’t be that much hate,” she said, again with

that cheeky knowing look. “Sit. Sit. Sweet tea?” she asked them both.

“I’m okay, thank you,” Valerie said, holding up her ginger ale.

“Soda over sweet tea?” Peggy scrunched her nose.

Ordinarily, Valerie liked tea, but right at that moment, it sounded disgusting. Notwithstanding the delicious smell coming

from the woman’s kitchen, Valerie could have gagged. “It smells really good in here,” Valerie said, just as her stomach made

a very audible sound. It was the first time since she’d gotten pregnant that her stomach actually craved something aside from

the very specific soup that only Andrew could re-create. These damn Wexlers were holding the key to her appetite.

“You’re hungry! That’s great,” Andrew said, sounding more excited than if he’d been told he won the lottery. His mother eyed

Andrew suspiciously, since that was definitely an over-the-top reaction, but she went back to the stove instead of prying.

Anabel, Valerie’s mother, would have definitely pried.

“Yeah, actually,” she said. “What’s that wonderful smell?”

“Homemade lasagna.”

“It’s my nonna’s recipe,” Andrew said. “My grandmother was Italian and a great cook, kind of like yours, I suppose.”

“I have all her recipes written down, but lasagna is Andy’s favorite,” said Peggy.

“Andy? How cute,” Valerie teased, and Andrew rolled his eyes.

“Valerie, why don’t you sit? Andy, come help me carry this to the table,” she said. The two worked together to bring the lasagna,

salad, and what looked like homemade bread to the table.

Peggy portioned huge servings onto Andrew’s and Valerie’s plates. Even if she was hungry, Valerie would never be able to finish

this much food. Andrew noticed and whispered, “Just eat what you can. Don’t worry.”

“So, Valerie, tell me about yourself.”

“Not much to tell. I was born and raised in Miami. My family is Cuban, but I’ve never been there. I’ve been everywhere else,

though. I volunteered with Teachers Without Borders since graduating from UM, until I got the job at Gables Prep, and now

I only volunteer with them in the summers.”

“I didn’t know that,” Andrew said. “Will you keep volunteering?” He didn’t have to say the rest. She understood the question.

“I don’t think so. I’ll probably take a few years off. I was already thinking about doing it.”

“That’s very interesting, Valerie. What places have you gone to?”

“I was just in Haiti. But I’ve been to the Congo, El Salvador, Angola, Ethiopia, Cambodia—”

“I didn’t know that,” he repeated. Apparently, there was a lot that he didn’t know, and he seemed upset by this information.

“You knew I volunteered with Teachers Without Borders.”

“But I didn’t know you used to volunteer there full-time and that you traveled so much.”

“Yep. I’m sure I left out some other places.”

“You’re so brave to go alone all over the world, and the good you’re doing is amazing,” said Peggy. “Wow, Andrew, isn’t that something?”

“It is,” he said, looking shocked.

“My Andy is too responsible. Sometimes I just want to shake him. Maybe you can get him to do some traveling with you. I know

he doesn’t go anywhere because he worries about leaving me, but I’ll be fine.”

“Mom?” he said. “I’m happy with my life. I go out.”

“To bars with your buddies. But that’s it. You work too much, and you worry too much about me. It’s time you met a nice young

woman and settled down.” Valerie didn’t miss the way Peggy looked her way when she said that. Valerie quickly looked back

at her lasagna.

He shrugged and continued to eat.

“I figured you for a serial dater,” Valerie said.

“Ha!” Peggy said. “He never dates.”

“Just because I don’t tell you, Mom, doesn’t mean I don’t date.”

Valerie put her utensils down and rested her chin on her knuckles. “You date? A lot? Tell us all about it, Andy. Who was your

last date? What’s your type?” She was teasing him, but she was also curious. She didn’t want strange women around her baby.

She knew she was deflecting the rush of jealousy she felt with humor, but that was the way it had to be. They weren’t together,

and she needed to get to know him better, since, clearly, they didn’t know much about one another.

“I’m not having this conversation with you two.” He smiled and that dimple popped out.

The two women continued to question Andrew, who took it all in stride. “Well, there was Aria. She got so drunk on our first date, I misplaced her number. Then there was Cora. She yelled at the server, so I misplaced her number too. A woman who treats servers poorly is no good,” he said matter-of-factly. “Then there was Jasmine. We actually went on three or four dates but...”

“But what?” Valerie asked, on pins and needles.

“I don’t know. No spark.” He shrugged.

It both infuriated Valerie that he had been dating and also intrigued her how selective the man was.

“Oh, there was Daisy.”

“How can we forget Daisy?” Peggy said.

“Why? What was wrong with Daisy? Did she have BO? Did she want you to buy her expensive jewelry on your first date?”

“No. She was a model, actually. We had a few great dates. But she met someone in Rome while working and, well... that was

that. We’re still friends.”

That ground Valerie’s gears. She pushed the food away. Valerie was not a model. She wasn’t tall or lean or particularly beautiful.

She was average, in her opinion. Average with a growing watermelon in her belly. Well, the baby book had said that the baby

was now the size of a lime, but she felt like he was the size of a melon.

Peggy stood to clear the plates, and Valerie tried to stand too, but Peggy shooed her away. “Sit. I’m coming back with cannoli

and coffee.”

“So models, huh?” Valerie said, rolling her napkin between her fingers.

“?‘Models’ is one too many models. Just the one.” He reached for her napkin and pulled it away. “That was a long time ago, Valerie. Before I met you. I actually haven’t dated anyone since, well, since... you know.”

“It’s fine.” She shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant about the whole conversation. “We’re not together. You can date whomever

you like. Even models.”

“Duly noted. How about you? Are you dating?”

Valerie guffawed and looked down at her stomach. She looked up to make sure Peggy wasn’t listening to the conversation. “My

life got very complicated very fast. To be honest with you, I was dating this guy on and off for a few months, but I think

that ship has sailed. I think all ships have sailed.”

“It’s not really my place to ask, but you were dating a guy? How recently?”

“He’s a pilot. Matis. He’s French. I haven’t seen him in probably seven months, to be honest. But we talk every couple of

weeks. Although, come to think of it, it’s been quite a while since we last spoke.”

“So when you say ‘date’ you mean you had booty calls. You hooked up when he was in town?”

“I don’t like that term. Matis is a nice man. We’re just not in a committed relationship or anything like that. Anyways, that’s

all in the past now.”

“You say that, but you’re not going to be pregnant forever.”

“What are you getting at, Wexler?”

“I don’t know. Just drop it.”

She leaned over the table and whispered, “No. I don’t want to drop it. I know exactly what’ll happen if Matis shows up at my door tomorrow. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He’ll see the bump, turn around, and leave.” She noticed that vein on Andrew’s forehead throb. Interesting. “But I don’t know what’s going to happen with your model or whoever comes next. I’m tied to this child for the rest of my life. My dating pool just closed, forever.” The last words had been said a little louder than she intended. They were in a stare-off and he was about to open his mouth when Peggy returned with cannoli.

They ate, but mostly in silence, with glares between the two. Luckily, the meal had been sublime, and Valerie didn’t feel

physically ill for the first time in a long while.

“I’ll finish cleaning up, Mom. Sit and relax,” he said, clearly wanting space from Valerie.

When they were all done, and Valerie was beginning to think that Andrew wasn’t going to mention the pregnancy, he sat at the

table and said, “Mom, there’s something we want to tell you.”

“I think I already know,” his mother said, looking between the two of them like the cat that ate the canary.

“You do?” Valerie asked while rubbing her flat belly.

“I’ve suspected all along. No one argues so much with someone who they don’t have strong feelings for. I’ll say, you kids

took long enough to figure it out, though.”

“Oh! No. No. No,” Valerie said at the same time that Andrew stood and moved next to his mother. “No. No. It’s not that. Not

at all. I wasn’t kidding when I said we are just friends.”

“No? You two aren’t...?” Her voice trailed off, and there was disappointment written all over her face. “But look at you,

you’re glowing. And you, Andy, you’re distracted and doting and...”

“I’m pregnant,” Valerie blurted out. She didn’t mean to, but she felt uncomfortable leading this woman on for a second longer. “He’s the father,” she added, and pointed to Andrew for good measure.

“Oh my,” Peggy said, clutching her pearls. Literally.

Andrew’s scowl was back, and he looked like he wanted to kill her. Certainly, she could have said it more delicately, but

if there was one thing Valerie was not, it was patient. She mouthed I’m sorry , and Andrew turned his attention back to his mom. God, she was going to be the cause of this poor sweet lady having a heart

attack.

“A baby? You’re pregnant?” Peggy asked.

“Yes,” Valerie said apologetically, looking at Peggy and Andrew.

“But you’re not married.”

“I know, Mom. It’s okay. People who are not married have kids together all the time.”

“Do they? But they’re at least together. You two aren’t married or together,” she said.

“But we’re friends,” Valerie added, although at the moment she wasn’t really sure about that.

Peggy’s eyes misted over, and for a moment Valerie didn’t know if it was because of utter disappointment or joy. “I’m going

to be a grandmother?”

“Yes, Mom. And I’m going to be a father.”

“Wow.” Again, a very confusing word with multiple possible meanings.

“Mom, we’re going to raise the baby separately but also together.”

She seemed forlorn. “Honey, when she meets a man and they get married, you won’t fit into their lives. Someone else will raise your child.” This was the same thing they’d just been discussing.

Valerie quickly interjected. “No, no. I’m not getting married. Not ever, so...”

He looked as shocked by this news as his mother. Did I not mention this before?

“Why?” Peggy asked.

“It’s just not something I want, but I promise, Mrs. Wexler, that you will see your grandbaby as often as you want, and Andrew

too. No matter what, you’re this baby’s family as much as I am.”

“Mom, focus on the positive. You’re going to be a grandmother. Isn’t that wonderful?”

On the positive? Was being unwed the negative?

Mrs. Wexler wiped a tear from her eye and forced a smile. “It is wonderful. Of course it is. Just wonderful.” It was a big

fat lie. The woman wasn’t happy about this at all. Clearly Andrew didn’t know his mother as well as he thought.

Valerie stood and softly pushed Andrew out of the way. “Mrs. Wexler, Peggy, it doesn’t matter whether we’re married or even

together. You’re a smart woman, and I’m not going to lie to you. Your son and I don’t exactly get along most of the time,

but we’re trying really hard. But regardless of my relationship with him, you’re going to be a grandmother. Forever. Andrew

will be the baby’s dad, forever. Those two things will never change. I give you my word that you will have complete and total

access to your grandson no matter what.”

“It’s a boy,” Peggy said, and her eyes watered.

“Uh, well, I think so. But we really don’t know yet.”

“And no matter what happens between the two of you, I can be part of his life?”

Valerie reached for the woman’s hand. “I swear it. I will make it a point, whether Andrew and I are friends or enemies or

whatever, to call you weekly and make sure that the baby comes and visits. I give you my word.”

That seemed to thaw her, and now the unhappy tears turned into sincere, joyful tears.

“I’m going to be a grandmother!”

“You are. You’re going to be a grandmother, Peggy. Nonna Peggy.”

“Abuela Peggy,” Andrew replied.

Peggy reached forward and took both their hands in hers. “I’m sorry for my initial reaction. I guess I had delusions of you

two being together, but I will have to get over my old-school mentality. As long as you’re happy and the baby is healthy,

it’ll all work out.”

“I am happy, Mom,” Andrew said, and winked at Valerie, who smiled back.

Andrew

I’m not fucking happy,” Andrew said when they were back in the car.

“Really? You could have fooled me,” she said, her words dripping with sarcasm. “What, pray tell, has your panties in a twist

now, Wexler?”

“You said that this French pilot guy can come over at any time.”

“No, I didn’t. I mean, maybe I did, but I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that if he did come back into my life all of a

sudden, and saw that I had a baby, that would be it.”

“You don’t know that. Maybe the guy loves kids.”

She laughed heartily. “Trust me, the last thing Matis is thinking about when he comes over is children.”

Andrew hated the way she said that. Who the hell is this Matis guy?

“You said you knew exactly what would happen if this douche knocked on your door tomorrow. I don’t want my son or daughter

around strange men.”

“First of all, Wexler, what I meant was that if he came by tomorrow, I would send him away. My mind is not on men or dating.

My entire world is about to change, and even if you turn out to be the world’s best father, it’s not the same for me, the

mom. You know that. You must understand. Most women don’t care if you’re a single dad, but most men are allergic to children.

I hate generalizing, but you know very well that it’s different for women. Regardless, it doesn’t matter. I’m not looking

to date. I have enough on my plate, don’t you think?”

He felt very relieved about this.

Valerie turned her body toward him. “Andrew, I need you to listen to me.” She rarely called him Andrew. His guard was immediately up. “I never want to get married. Until the other day, I didn’t want kids and now I’m pregnant. My entire world is going to be tilted on its axis in a few months. I understand you have a sense of responsibility and had this wonderful, idyllic upbringing, but I don’t want you to think that you and I are ever gonna happen. I would be lying if I told you I didn’t find you attractive. I do, obviously.” She looked down at her stomach as evidence. “But what you want and need in a woman is not something I can give you. The only reason you’re feeling jealous is because of that sense of responsibility that you have. That possessiveness you feel is because I’m carrying your baby.”

He took her hands in his. “Valerie, it could work.” He kissed the top of one hand and then the other. “People get married

for all sorts of reasons, and a baby should be top of that list.” He wished he could get down on one knee, but it was impossible.

He held her hands tighter, not out of passion but because he felt her trying to yank them away. “Stop. Listen to me. Calm

down, please. We are building a friendship. We work together. We’ll soon have a child. We definitely have physical attraction.

Let’s get married, Valerie. It’s convenient. It can work out.”

She pulled her hands away. “It can work out? It’s convenient? You are a real Romeo, Wexler. I may swoon.” She rolled her eyes.

He turned to look out the windshield, contemplating how his proposal had come out. Perhaps not his finest moment, but his

intentions were very real. “I—You know what I meant. It’s not only because it’s convenient.”

“It’s not? It’s because we’re madly in love?” She waved her hand dismissively. “Please don’t make this harder than it needs

to be. Please. We would never work out. We are completely opposite in every way two people can be opposites. Plus, I don’t

want convenient. I don’t want obligation, not for you and definitely not for me. Do not ask again, Wexler. I mean it.”

Her declaration was so finite but also so full of vulnerability that he was left without anything else to say. She just didn’t want him, or she was worried that he wanted her for the wrong reasons. The truth was, until the other day, he did not like Valerie Marquez. Yes, he found her attractive, but that’s as far as it went. Was the jealousy he was feeling because she was pregnant? Maybe she was right.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Maybe you’re right. We’re too different, and it’s all because of the baby.”

“Exactly,” she said, but she looked out the window. He backed the car out of the lot and thought he saw her wipe a tear from

her face.

“So anyway,” she said, but her voice cracked and she coughed. “That was interesting. I told you she wouldn’t love the idea

of you knocking me up.”

“She’ll be fine. It was a shock. She’s old-school but I have no doubt she’s telling the entire Palace that she’s going to

be a grandmother right now.”

“She’s sweet. I like her. And her cooking is ah-ma-zing !”

He chuckled. “Yeah, she’s a great cook. She taught me when I was little.”

“That lasagna was mind-blowing. Life changing.” She patted her stomach. “Junior agrees, by the way. Do you know how to replicate

that?”

“I sure do,” he said, and without thinking he reached across and put his hand on her belly. They both stilled, and he started to pull away, but she rested her hand on top of his. “It’s okay. You can’t feel anything yet.”

“I felt something,” he said, his hand stilling.

“Gas.”

He burst out laughing. The mood was light again. Thank God. “Do you mind if we swing by my mom’s old house? I need to pay

the electrician before he leaves.”

“Sure,” she said with a deep yawn.

When Andrew parked, less than twenty minutes later, Valerie was sound asleep. He wanted to touch her face, kiss her lips.

But he couldn’t do that. She’d made it clear.

“Marquez, hey, wake up. We’re here.”

She stirred before blinking repeatedly and wiping her lip.

“Sorry. Sorry.” She sat up. “Wexler, this is... wow.”

This had always been home, but he tried to see it from her perspective. He looked at the older keystone house surrounded by

palm trees and other green vegetation.

“I love the terra-cotta barrel tiles and trees everywhere. Wow.”

“Don’t ‘wow’ just yet. The inside’s a mess. In fact, why don’t you stay in the car? It’s full of tripping hazards inside.”

“Are you crazy?” she said, opening the door and stepping out. Of course she’d do the exact opposite of what he asked. “I can’t

wait to see it. This neighborhood is worth millions, Andrew. Millions. You’re going to be rich when this house sells.”

“Again, hold your opinion until you see the inside. Please, watch your step, these pebbles are ankle turners.” He rushed to her side and took her hand, not caring whether she wanted it or not. The last thing he needed was her getting hurt.

“Had to have the entire house rewired,” he said.

“Who cares about wires when you have a front door that looks like this. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one like this in real

life, only in Three’s Company ,” she said. He loved the rounded front door with the small peephole, too. “This is my favorite door ever. Oh my God, this

door needs to be blue.”

“It really doesn’t,” he said.

“No, it does. So do the Bahama shutters around the windows.”

He ignored her decorating suggestions as he opened the door for her. “Again, watch your step. I just refinished the hardwood

floors, and I haven’t wanted to take off the cloth cover because, well... it was a bitch to do, and I don’t want them to

get fucked up with paint and construction.”

“Language, Wexler,” she said, and he rolled his eyes. When they stepped inside, she gasped. “This is amazing,” she said while

looking around.

“Our definitions of ‘amazing’ are completely different. The layout sucks, there are weird spaces everywhere, and it’s going

to be a pain in the ass to show once it’s listed.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because, for instance, this weird area... my mom used it as a sewing nook. A three-by-two sewing nook? That’s not a thing.”

“You just have a terrible imagination. Look, this nook right here, this is a library. It’s a reading nook, which people will

love. It can also be a music nook, if you’re into vinyl. And over here, there needs to be a baby grand piano.”

“The new owners can make that decision, I guess.”

She looked heartbroken at that thought. “No. What if they make it a bar or something stupid like an Instagram wall with fake

grass and neon lights that say something like ‘Miami Vibes’? You can’t let that happen, Wexler. You can’t. Maybe that can

be on the deed or something. A restriction on the deed—yeah. Do that.”

He laughed loudly. “Roberto?” he yelled, which reverberated around the empty house.

“Over here,” Roberto yelled back from underneath a cabinet. “I’m almost done, Mr. Wexler.”

“How did it go?”

“Everything is fine now. I’ll show you the new breaker and panel in a minute. Let me just finish here.”

“Can I look around?” she asked.

“Yeah, come on, I’ll show you.” He led her up two steps. “Watch your step. It’s a split-level. So the rooms are all on this

side.”

“How many rooms?”

“It’s a three-two,” he said, and she walked into an empty room painted a soft cream color. The closets were small, but the

room itself was large enough to easily fit a king-size bed, an armoire, and two nightstands. “There’s a Jack-and-Jill bathroom

here. It’s my next project,” he said as he opened the door to a powder-blue bathroom with a door on the other end that led

to another room. The tiles in the bathroom were blue, and so were the toilet and sink. He hated this bathroom.

“What are you going to do with it?”

“I can’t wait to gut it.”

“Oh.” She winced. “I mean, it’s outdated, but it’s not hideous. Please don’t tell me you’re doing subway tiles and some boring white pedestal sink.”

“I haven’t thought about it just yet. But I can tell you what it’s not going to have—any blue.”

She laughed. “Hear me out. I think you should stay with the blue color scheme. Try to leave as much of the original house

feel as you can. I can go with you to pick something out. Maybe leave the floor but get rid of the wall tiles and the blue

toilet and sink. I promise you will not regret it.”

“I don’t think we have the same aesthetic.”

“Exactly! I have the good kind and you have the boring kind. Pleeeease. Pretty please. I have the perfect idea for this space.

Let me help with this one.”

He laughed and relented. “Fine.”

“Yay!” she said cheerfully, and then opened the door on the other side of the bathroom. It opened to an identical bedroom

except for a window facing the yard.

“I love the space and the lighting. It’s so bright.” She looked out the window to the mess of trees.

“This was my room growing up. The other one was an office slash extra bedroom.”

“Wow. Did you have posters everywhere? What were you into? Superman? Or maybe hot bikini girls on cars?” She spun around the

room, trying to take it all in. “What was Andrew Wexler like as a kid? Where did you keep all your sweaters?”

He laughed. “I did not wear sweaters. I didn’t have any posters up, but I used to be into model cars. I would build them and paint them every time I had a chance.”

“That’s cool,” she said.

He looked out the window at the mess. “I need to deal with the lawn at some point.”

“But don’t get rid of all of it. Just clean it up.”

“I agree,” he said. “I like the trees. Oh, I have something to show you before we leave. Don’t let me forget,” he said.

They walked into the next room. “Here’s the master. The Realtors have told me the biggest issue with the sale is the closet

space in this room, so I’m thinking of adding a closet here.” He pointed to a wall with a sliding door that led to the outside.

“I think I’m going to extend this out and make it a big walk-in closet.”

“But then there’d be no access to the outside from in here.”

“You’re the only woman who’d be against a massive walk-in closet.”

“I’m not opposed. I think you need it. But I also think you can’t nix the access to the outside. Why not change this from

a sliding door to a small single door here, and then the walk-in could go here.”

He stood back and looked. “That could work. It’d be a little more expensive, because I’d have to knock this down, but...

yeah, maybe. I’ll think about it.”

“This space is incredible, Wexler. And the ceiling—those wood beams are beautiful.”

“That was the start of the renovation, actually. The beams were rotting and had to be redone. Once that was done, I real ized the crown molding had to go, and you can’t do the crown molding without the floorboards. They needed to be replaced. But then it didn’t match the rest of the house, so one thing led to another and I’ve gutted the house.”

“And you did this yourself?” she asked, looking around in awe.

“I did.”

“I’m impressed. It’s simple but not too modern, and it goes so well with the rest of the space. Good job, Wexler.”

“Come on, let me show you the thing I wanted to show you. You’ll love it.”

He took her hand again. It was for safety reasons, and she didn’t pull away, so he kept holding it.

Andrew opened the sliding door and led them to the outside.

“Is this an acre?”

“Not quite,” he said, and led her toward the end of the property and pointed up.

“Oh my God,” she said excitedly, her hands covering her mouth. “It’s Ol’ B!”

“I knew you’d love it.”

“More than you know!” she said. “A family can have the best picnics under this tree!”

A family. Something that they’d never be, because she didn’t want him. He could easily picture her out here by the tree painting,

and it would be hers if she could just open her heart enough to let him in.

“Andrew?” She snapped her fingers, and he shook his head, erasing the thoughts of her with his baby right in that spot.

“Um... sorry. Yeah, we did that a few times. We had a barbecue over there”—he pointed toward a cemented spot by the house—“and had a table and chairs over here. We’d eat out here in the winter and fall when it wasn’t that hot or full of mosquitoes.”

“Andrew, this is amazing. You really did have the perfect childhood.”

He did. And he wanted that for his child too. But more than that, he wanted to give it to Valerie. She deserved to feel like

part of a loving family, and he wanted to be the one to show her. He had to play it smart, however, because the woman was

squeamish. If he showed too much emotion she’d run for the hills. But Andrew wasn’t stupid. He knew a thing or two about tantrums

and being passive-aggressive; he did, after all, spend most of his time with children. He could handle a tiny woman like Valerie

Marquez.