Chapter 32
32
“ I ’m so happy Tucker is okay,” my abuela says over the phone. “Is he feeling well enough to come over and see us? I’m having dinner, and I would love to see my granddog.”
Tucker is stretched out in the back seat and biting at the cone around his head. Foster put it on so Tucker wouldn’t bite his stitches.
“Gee, thanks,” I say around a chuckle. “What about your grand son ?”
“Well, of course, you too, honey. But let’s not be a selfish dog dad. You weren’t the one who just spent days in the animal hospital.”
“Fair point.” I scratch my head as I cast a glance toward Essie in my passenger seat. “Can I bring someone?”
“Is this someone Essie, the pretty girl from the pub and vet?”
I can’t see my abuela, but I know she’s wearing a giant smirk on her face. In high school, I didn’t bring many girls home. Sure, I went to a few school dances and had study partners, but nothing like what I have with Essie.
I crack a smile, my eyes still glued on Essie. “Yes, the pretty girl from the pub and vet. ”
“Of course you can bring her!” she bursts out. “Any girl who’s a crush of my grandson’s is a friend of mine.”
I shake my head, thankful I didn’t put her on speaker.
That’s a known rule with her, though.
Never put Abuela on speaker when in public.
You never know what’ll leave her mouth.
Though I know there’s no muting her when we’re at dinner.
You game? I mouth to Essie.
I’m game , she mouths back.
“We’ll be there.”
“Great! See you soon.” She makes a kissy sound and ends the call.
Tucker starts wagging his tail and barks, like he senses what we’re saying.
“You calm down, mister,” Essie says, gesturing for him to lie down. “Foster said you need rest.”
Tucker nuzzles his cone against the seat before lying back down.
I peer at Essie. “Whatever my abuela says, only believe half of it.”
Essie throws her head back. “Oh, I’m believing every little thing. She could tell me you wet the bed for your first sixteen years, and I’d believe her.”
“It was only until fifteen, thank you very much.”
“Remind me to put an extra mattress cover on my bed tonight.”
“Does that mean I’m invited over for another sleepover?”
She chews on the edge of her lip. “Possibly.”
“Tucker too? Because we come as a package deal.”
“Tucker is a definite yes. You? We’ll have to see what many secrets I hear about you today.”
“My abuela likes you. I have faith she’ll want you to stick around, so she’ll take it easy on me.”
The aroma of pineapples, essential oils, and mixed spices welcomes us when we walk through the front door. Essie holds it open wider, allowing me extra space to carry Tucker inside.
He’s already up to his old ways. As soon as I opened the car door minutes ago, he spotted a squirrel and attempted to chase it. Luckily, I stopped him.
We’ll be having a serious no chasing squirrels conversation later.
Essie helps me settle Tucker on the couch, and then we follow the sound of laughter to the kitchen. My abuela is at the stove, and Terrance is washing dishes.
I’m grateful my abuela found Terrance.
Anytime he’s at home, he’s always helping her.
Teamwork is important in relationships, and sometimes, it’s one of the first things overlooked.
“There you are!” She rests her spoon on the counter, wipes her hands on a towel, and circles the island. “I’m making your favorite—carne guisada.” She smacks a kiss on my cheek, hugs Essie, and then glances behind me.
“He’s on the couch, resting,” I reply, reading her mind.
“Be right back,” she sings out. “My poor guy needs some grandma love.”
“I’m surprised she hasn’t dognapped him from me,” I comment to Terrance.
Terrance turns off the water and waves us over. “I’m buying her a dog next week.” He places his finger to his lips in a shh gesture.
“She’ll love that. Though, heads-up, she’ll probably have it sleeping in bed with you two.”
He pushes his glasses up his nose. “That’s why I’m getting her a small one—a teacup. One of those she can carry around in that big ole purse of hers.”
I can already picture her doing that now.
We stop our conversation when my abuela returns to the kitchen.
“I just love that little guy,” she comments.
“What can I help with?” Essie asks.
My abuela peers at me. “How about you open a bottle of wine for us?” Her attention moves to Essie. “And you just relax.”
I open the wine cooler and pull out a deep red.
“Hello,” Foster calls from the living room. He says something to Tucker about napping and resting before coming into the kitchen.
Terrance collects glasses from the cabinet. I open the wine and start pouring our drinks.
“Everyone is almost here,” my abuela says, removing a tray of biscuits from the oven. “Fingers crossed your mom is on time.”
I jerk forward, spilling wine on the counter. Essie hurriedly grabs a towel to help clean it up.
If my mother brings up Earl’s case at dinner, I’m so fucked.