Chapter 13
thirteen
GRANT
Showing up on Tuesday unannounced was a risk. I had no doubts that Liliana would push back somewhat. If not about seeing me outside of our normal Thursday meetings, then at least about leaving the safe space of Caramel & Latte.
I anticipated Tuesday going in that direction. Had I been aware that today would also stray from our routine, I would’ve bought her flowers, balloons—something.
Something to show her this is more than working on an assignment or fooling Locke. I want to be near her. I want to be with her. The way I admired Liliana in undergrad was innocent enough. Looking because there was a masterpiece in front of me that deserved my attention.
She’s always glowed, but it’s different now. Beyond comprehension. There’s a more vulnerable side to her and a different kind of drive behind her eyes. It’s been a gift to get to know new, raw sides of her. Expectedly, my feelings for her developed further.
So has my approach towards her. I want to earn her forgiveness, but also her affection.
I want to keep knocking down her walls, exposing the fun and joking Liliana that sends my heart racing.
I can’t stop fantasizing over what it would be like if we left our work alone for a day.
What she would look like leaning over to whisper in my ear, how she would sound in between kisses, laid delirious and hazy across the gray hue of my bedsheets.
Today was supposed to be about easing the thought of us hanging out together, as friends, outside of Caramel & Latte, into her mind. Planting little seeds and hoping they’ll blossom.
That plan has been derailed, but I’ll adjust. This day has to be perfect.
When I texted Liliana that I’d be half an hour late, she added a smiley face at the end of her reply, saying that it’s okay. Good sign.
I’m another fifteen minutes late after the initial half an hour, so that’s a concern.
I considered telling her over text that we won’t be studying today but decided against it. When we’re in front of her, it’ll be easier to gauge what she thinks.
“Uncle Grant.” The tiny fingers encased in my hand tug to get my attention. “Where are we going?”
Maybe Liliana will be more open to changing our plans when the most adorable four-year-old is with me while I’m pitching them.
“We’re going to hang out with one of my friends, Clem.”
We turn a corner, and our destination comes into vision. I think of all the great things to hype up Liliana to my niece. She has lots of pink bows and glittery pens. She loves Taylor Swift. She has long, gorgeous hair, and she’s really, really pretty.
But before I can tell her these things, Clementine’s attention is caught by the large neon sign shining through Caramel & Latte’s floor-to-ceiling windows.
“Look at the pretty sign!” Clem pulls on my arm and runs towards the coffee shop. I let her believe it’s her idea to run into the café and pretend it’s her beloved sign that catches my attention.
Liliana whips her head as soon as we enter. The annoyance on her face is unmissable. Her lips are tugged into a tight line, arms crossing while she turns towards us. She’s so annoyed, I think she totally misses the small human cheering about the smell of vanilla.
I think Liliana looks beautiful.
The beige and pink frills of her skirt move across the seat when she crosses her legs, white crocheted leg warmers that match her sweater wrinkling in the process.
Her off-the-shoulder top shows a pink tinge on her skin, and I hope she hasn’t been walking around all day without something to keep her warm.
“You’re late, Grant.”
“I know.”
The words don’t make her stare any less menacing, but it keeps her eyes on me, and I’ll take that as a win.
I get so lost in the vision that is Liliana Kahale, I don't register the emptiness of my hand. Clementine hasn’t ventured far, though. She walks up to Liliana and taps her on the knee.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Liliana.” She sounds and looks unsure, glancing between the two of us. Clementine’s features have adopted most of her mother’s genes, including her darker skin and deep brown eyes, but I hope she can see the resemblance.
Silence stretches for two seconds too long, and I move closer to them, resting my hand on my niece’s head. “Go ahead, introduce yourself.”
Like Liliana, Clem glances between us, pouting in confusion but eventually saying, “I’m Clementine. I’m this years old.”
She holds up both hands, pointer and middle fingers extended to look like she’s posing with peace signs for a photo, and I just about melt into the floor. There’s a crack of a smile from Liliana too, appearing beneath the annoyance and skepticism.
Small hands pull on the wool of my cardigan, and I squat down to reach her eye level.
“Who?” Clem asks again, pointing her hand straight at Liliana, although Heath has told her pointing is rude. Then, before I can answer, she adds, “I want ice cream.”
“No ice cream.” She huffs, and I remind myself to stay strong against the cuteness. “She told you her name.”
“Liliana.” Clem repeats.
When I look up at Liliana, her forehead is scrunched in confusion. I intend to explain what’s going on, and why my niece is tagging along, when my phone rings. I quickly encourage Clementine to tell Liliana why I’m her favorite uncle and I step aside to hurriedly answer the call.
“Hello?”
“Son!”
My father’s voice is too cheery. So cheery it makes my stomach churn. This is the first and last time I’ll be careless enough to answer my phone without checking caller ID.
“This isn’t a good time.” No time is a good time when he’s involved.
“I recall your…” Keller loudly clears his throat. I tug the device away from my ear while grimacing. “So-called school project.”
“Yes,” I deadpan. “It’s Thursday. I’m busy.”
“Well, I have a business proposition for you.” A business proposition?
That’s the worst way someone could start a conversation with me.
Before the refusal can come from my throat, he continues.
“Some international connections of mine are in town for dinner and networking. I’ll have one of my drivers grab you in about twenty minutes.
You’ll be the special guest of the night to introduce yourself. ”
My face twists. From the corner of my eye, I spot Clem in the seat next to Liliana, the two of them fiddling with her never-ending pen collection. I can’t imagine leaving a night with those girls in favor of anything, especially not my father’s business get-togethers.
Isn’t one of his cherished family dinners tonight, anyways?
“I’m busy,” I repeat myself. This time, I don’t give my father the opportunity to speak before me. “Really busy. My project partner is waiting for me, and we can’t put off our night any longer.”
“Son, I need you to understand something.”
“Grant!”
I don’t think Liliana meant for her voice to project as loudly as it does, but her call of my name is amplified by the empty café. She waves me over, pointing at Clem holding up a paper of mindless scribbles and lines.
I can’t stand wasting any more seconds on this phone call.
“Gotta go. Hope your dinner goes well.”
Keller’s voice is garbled by static for all of two seconds before I hang up the phone and head back to the table.
“Look at you, artist.” Clem beams when I compliment her. The colorful swirls aren’t anything specific, but she’s proud of it, anyways. So am I.
“She’s got an eye for it,” Liliana says. “Is that why you were late? Grabbing her from her lessons with Picasso?”
I laugh away the stress lingering from my father’s phone call. “My cousin’s car got towed way out of the city and he won’t be back for a while. His wife is out of town for work, so they asked me to grab Clem after school and watch her until he comes back later tonight.”
There isn’t a world where I would say no to Heath’s request. Besides spending time with Clem, I get the chance to introduce her to Liliana.
And possibly use this leverage when I propose my plan.
Liliana nods, uncrosses her legs, and crosses them again. I follow every movement too closely.
“You could’ve told me, you know. I would’ve been okay cancelling.”
“It’s cool. I wanted you to meet her, anyways.”
The pink shade on Liliana’s shoulders creeps up the side of her neck and into her cheeks. Every time I manage a blush like that out of her, it feels like another five years gets added to my life span.
Clem doesn’t give me time to appreciate the sight, saying, “Ice cream.”
“No ice cream.”
Liliana laughs. I’m glad she thinks we’re amusing. My niece smiles at her, and it’s all falling into place. Making sure they get along was the first step of the night. Now is the perfect time to act.
“I have an idea better than ice cream.” I wave a hand towards me, Clem following the direction and hopping off her chair. Smirking in challenge at Liliana, I motion at the door. “Let’s go.”
She doesn’t move. When I nod to the exit a second time, she points hand at her chest. “Me?”
As if I’d be talking to anyone else.
“What’s better than ice cream?” Clementine asks, impatiently kicking her foot at the sole of my low-top sneakers.
“I’m going to show you.” Reaching over to Liliana’s tote bag, I open it and motion for her to start packing up, but don’t try to do it for her.
She has an order I’ve noticed she goes through, a certain placing of every item to keep herself organized.
It’s another nudge at her bag and an amused smile before she finally starts putting things away.
“It’s a school night.” Responsible, grade-oriented Liliana doesn’t fail to remind me, even when she’s meticulously lining up her notebooks.
“It’s not even seven.” Maybe a little past seven, but who’s checking?
“Besides, didn’t you turn in your second draft yesterday?
” The hazel in her eyes dulls. I’m sure she’s criticizing herself in her head again, and I refuse to let her fall deeper into it.
“It’s one night. You don’t have an assignment due tomorrow.
” It’s a guess, but she doesn’t protest, so I must be right.
“And you deserve some fun. Don’t you think? ”
Liliana pauses while carefully wrapping her phone charger to stare at me. My grin stretches wider. With her, silence is still an answer, and I know what it means.
“It’ll be fun. I promise.”