Chapter 34 Emma
Emma
Islapped the hand sneaking into the tray of arepas for the fifth time. “If I have to tell you to keep your hands away from the food one more time, I’m going to make you leave,” I said.
“Emma!” Manny whined. “It’s my birthday. Shouldn’t I get to try everything first?”
Fifteen years old, and he still sounded like such a baby. “You’ll get the first pick of whatever you want,” I assured him, “but you’re not going to get that and steal bites before it even makes it to the table. You get one or the other, not both.”
The teenager pouted. “Angel would get to steal bites and get first pick.”
I shrugged. “There is a good possibility of that,” I said in all honesty, “but I love him a lot more than I love you.”
Manny didn’t believe me. As he flattened out the arepa dough and stuffed it with cheese, he nudged my shoulder. “But you like me a lot more, right?”
I laughed. “Of course, mijo,” I said. Manny and I had grown quite close over the last few months.
Despite my pushing, he refused to go back to school.
We settled for him completing all of his homeschool work before he was allowed to do anything resembling training.
So far, Angel was training Manny as my security to replace David.
It wasn’t as exciting as being on the front lines, as it was, but everyone breathed a little easier with Manny being as far from potential violence as he could get.
“You know I’d make you arepas any day of the week if you reenrolled in school. ”
Manny rolled his eyes. “No thanks,” he said. “I’ll wait for special occasions… or when you get a pregnancy craving like last time.”
I smacked his arm, over the scar from his bullet graze. “Hush you,” I said. “Pregnancy cravings don’t last forever.”
“Shame,” he said and sealed the edges of the arepa in his hand. It was more of a ball than anything. How much cheese had he stuffed into the dough? “Looks good, huh?” he said.
I nodded, indulgent. “Sure. That one is definitely yours.” I checked the time. Everything was nearly ready. “Go get the water glasses set out for me?”
Manny pouted. “It’s my birthday though.”
“Manuel.” We turned, and Angel stood in the doorway. My heart fluttered, and the little squirming in my belly let me know that the baby had felt it too. “Go make yourself useful.”
The teenager whined but did as he was told, taking the tray of glasses with him. “You don’t think he’s going to drop them, do you?” I asked, looking at my husband.
Angel shook his head. A soft smile — the one that he saved for only me — curved his lips. “If he’s not coordinated enough to balance a tray, he has no business learning how to handle weapons with Omar.”
“Such a taskmaster,” I tsked, putting Manny’s mutated arepa in the pan to brown. I felt more than saw Angel as he came close to me; his presence was a comforting weight that I seemed to feel whenever he was in the same room as me.
Angel wrapped his arms around me; his hands cupped my baby bump, lifting it gently. I groaned as the weight was taken off my pelvis for a moment. “Feel good?” he asked.
I rested my head on his shoulder. “Gracias, my love.”
He hummed in my ear. “How’s baby?” he asked.
I felt another little flutter, and I moved his hand to see if he could feel it. So far, the baby had been a little elusive about who could feel the little kicks and squirms. “Say something,” I said.
“How are you, baby?” There was a soft jab, and Angel made an absolutely pleased sound. “He likes my voice,” he bragged.
“Or she,” I corrected. We had the anatomy scan next week, and everyone was making bets on what the new Castillo would be. Lili and I were firmly in the ‘girl’ category, and I suspected that Angel was as well, but his pride kept him from saying it.
“We will see,” Angel murmured against my ear, and I shivered as his lips nipped gently at my earlobe.
I flipped the massive arepa over, thrilled to see the golden brown color. I wasn’t sure it was going to cook correctly as large as it was. “Look at this thing,” I said.
Angel snorted. “You indulge him.”
“So do you,” I shot back.
He couldn’t argue with me about that: we both had a soft spot for the boy, and I know I personally liked to spoil him when I could. If only to remind him that he was still a boy for a little while longer.
When the last arepa came off the stove, I stretched and groaned, trying to pop my spine. “Are you all right, mi esposa?”
I glanced at Angel, who was already gathering the plates of food without my having to ask; I couldn’t stop my smile. “We’re doing fine, Angel,” I assured him. He had been overly protective since taking over, and as much as I loved it, he could be a little…much at times.
“I don’t want you overtaxing yourself,” Angel said, not for the first time.
I shook my head. “Cooking isn’t taxing,” I said and picked up one of the arepas and held it out for him. “Try it?” I put my finger to my lips. “But don’t tell Manny; it’ll hurt his feelings.”
Angel took a bite, and he groaned happily. “Did you use my mother’s recipe? It tastes just like hers.”
I patted the tin box that had become a permanent fixture in the kitchen. Lara had nearly cried when she saw it, and the hug she’d given me nearly cracked my ribs. “Of course,” I said.
Angel leaned over and pecked my cheek. “You’re the best.”
“I better be,” I teased.
The dining room was filled with the Castillo family, all of the cousins and tías and tíos.
The room was filled with laughter and talking, and it filled me with joy the moment I walked in.
Was it perfect? Absolutely not. Almost every person here was dangerous and violent; they’d done unspeakable things in the name of their family.
And yet…they were all laughing and smiling.
It wasn’t like that awful meal with Gustavo sitting at the head of the table.
Angel sat in what was once his father’s seat and motioned for me to join him on his right.
I dropped arepas on people’s plates as I went, and when I finally got off my feet, I groaned happily.
“I told you that you needed to sit down,” Angel said as he tucked into his meal.
“Hush,” I said, but I sat so that I could put my feet in his lap, and his free hand immediately began to massage my, admittedly, swollen ankles.
“Emma,” Zara called from down the table, “this is delicious!” I’d finally met Manny’s elusive older sister and Lili was right.
She was like the other Castillo women and also different.
Murmurs of agreement followed Zara’s declaration, and I felt myself blush.
I never knew how much I would like cooking for an army of people like this, but there was something entirely gratifying about seeing everyone happy and fed and being directly involved in that.
After the meal was finished, and the plates were cleared, I slipped back into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Manny’s cake — a large chocolate sheet cake with his favorite strawberry filling — was in a large box. I had been chasing the boy away from it all day.
When I tried to lift the cake, my back twinged. “Angel!” I called.
“Mi esposa?” He was already in the kitchen, having followed me. “Do you need help?”
“Please.”
Angel tutted. “All you need to do is ask,” he said and came around to pick up the cake out of the box. I quickly pushed in the candles and lit them. “Lead the way, mi esposa.”
I walked back into the dining room, turning off the lights as we went. “Happy birthday to you,” I sang, wincing at the off-key warble. “Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Manny! Happy birthday to you.”
Angel set the cake in front of the teenager, who blew the candles out; I didn’t miss the sheen of tears in his eyes. “Manny? What’s wrong, mijo?” I asked, leaning down as best that I could.
“It’s been years since I had a birthday like this,” he said, glancing at his mother, who seemed engrossed in some kind of dating app on her phone, “and it’s all because of you. Gracias, Emma.” The boy threw his arms around me.
Tears sprung to my eyes. “Oh, sweetheart,” I cooed and petted his head. “You are so welcome.”
He held onto me for a little longer before Angel chased him off and pulled me into his arms. “Don’t make me jealous,” he said, and I smacked his arm with a laugh.
“Don’t be jealous of your cousin,” I said. “That’s weird.”
Angel kissed my cheek, and then my neck, until I was shivering. “I’d be jealous of anyone who gets your attention.”
I shifted my head so that I could look up at him. “Even the baby?” I asked.
Angel considered it and then shook his head. “The baby is a part of you,” he said, as if it were that simple. Maybe it was. “Let me cut the cake, mi esposa. You need to go sit.”
I didn’t argue. It was fun to watch Angel be the patriarch of the family when it wasn’t a moment of violence or chaos. He cut the cake horribly — none of the pieces were equal — but he made sure that Manny got the biggest slice with the most icing.
The plates were passed around; Angel brought one slice for us to share.
I hadn’t had much of a sweet tooth recently, and he didn’t seem to mind sharing a bite or two, despite his own sugar addiction.
He offered me a bite of cake on his fork.
“Bite?” I took it and tried not to wince at the syrupy sweetness that hit my tongue.
Angel chuckled at my expression. “Too sweet?”
I cringed. “My back teeth hurt,” I complained.
“So I can have the rest of it?”
I waved him on. “Go for it.”
Zara presented her brother with a small birthday present before leaving without saying goodbye to anyone.
I caught Angel watching her go, his eyes narrowed, but he didn’t stop her.
There was something about this woman that I still didn’t know but I pushed down the curiosity.
For the rest of Manny’s party, I just watched.
I spoke when someone wanted my attention, but mostly, I watched and rubbed at my belly, encouraging the flips and twists from the baby that was steadily getting bigger.
I hadn’t felt this happy in years. Not since before my mother’s diagnosis, not since I lost her. It wasn’t the life that I had thought I would have, but looking at Angel, who was currently teasing his siblings and eating a second piece of cake, I wouldn’t trade it for the world.