Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
The video call connected, and her mother’s face filled the screen.
“Beatriz, why do you look so tired?”
“I just finished exams, Umma.”
“Oh. Have you eaten?”
Bea propped her chin on her hand. “Yes, Umma. I had dinner. With vegetables.”
“Only one kind of vegetable?”
“Three, including onion and garlic.”
Her mother gave her a suspicious look, then softened. “Your skin looks good. Maybe you’re happy. Are you happy?”
That was a big question for a Wednesday night in sweatpants. But her heart said yes before her brain could overthink it. “I think so.”
Umma leaned in, inspecting her through the screen. “Is Gage treating you well?”
“Always,” she said. “He’s away right now though.”
Umma pursed her lips. “He called.”
Bea blinked so many times it could’ve been Morse code. “He what?”
“He called your father. A week ago. He invited us to visit for your birthday.”
“And you waited a week to tell me this?”
“I think he meant for it to be a surprise. But I wanted to make sure you wanted us to come.”
“Are you kidding, why wouldn’t I want you to come?” Her face broke out in a grin. “Can Papa take time off work?”
“He submitted the request,” Umma said. “Papa wants to book the tickets, but Gage insists to arrange everything for us.”
Translation: Gage was about to test the upper limits of Spanish dad pride. First class at best. The jet at worst. Bea wasn’t sure who’d survive it.
“Do you think Papa will agree?”
“I’m not sure. But Gage said if we take the flight he arranges, we’d arrive more rested since we’ll only be able to stay a week at most. You know Papa has a big union meeting around that time every year.”
“Come, Umma. The UR is amazing. And having you here for my birthday would be the best.”
Umma tilted her head. “He’s serious about you, isn’t he?”
Bea’s whole chest warmed. “Yeah. He is.”
More than you know.
Umma looked like she was storing that answer somewhere only mothers had access to. A place where hope and worry lived side by side.
Then she brightened. “Will I get to see the ocean?”
“It’s twenty minutes from campus.” Bea grinned. “I’ll even let you dip a toe in without signing a waiver.”
“Should I start preparing Papa to meet Gage’s family?”
Bea’s heart rate did triple time. “I…let me talk to Gage about that.”
Umma nodded. “I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.”
“I know you need to call Claire now, so I’ll let you go. And Bea?”
“Yeah?”
“Drink warm water, not sparkling. It’s better for you.”
Bea assured her mother as best she could before the screen went dark.
She scrolled, found Claire’s name, and pressed Video Call.
Claire’s face blinked into view on her laptop.
Bea tugged a hanger out of the closet with her free hand. “Do we like this dress or is it giving failed art gallery intern?”
Claire made circles with her fingertip. “Turn it around.”
Bea held it up. Navy, long sleeves, subtle waist cutout.
“Can you do better?”
“Dress or pants?”
“Dress says I’m grateful for the opportunity. Pants say I am the opportunity.”
“Okay, so…pants?”
Bea dug through her closet and surfaced with black trousers and a champagne silk blouse from her latest subscription box. It looked expensive. It was expensive. She held them up.
“Better,” Claire approved. “It says: I’m young, brilliant, and you can’t afford me yet.”
“Ha. That’s funny because I can’t afford me, either, since I’m renting the outfit.”
Monthly rental boxes of luxury brands was part of the survival kit. She tossed the clothes onto her bed and reached for a handful of bobby pins, piled next to her makeup bag and a jar of multivitamins she never remembered to take.
“Anyway,” she said, turning her head sideways in the mirror as she thought about what to do with her hair, “Umma called. Guess who’s coming for my birthday?”
Claire blinked. “Wait. Wait. She told you?”
“Told me what?”
“That we’re coming for your birthday.”
Bea’s head snapped back to the laptop. “Claire!”
“I wasn’t gonna say anything! Gage wanted it to be a surprise. He called me, full-CEO voice, and wanted your dad’s number. I thought he was going to ask for your hand in marriage or something. Thankfully it was just a holiday.”
Bea chose not to touch that, because it wasn’t entirely off. And that was a thought she was not emotionally equipped for on half-done hair.
“He got my dad’s number from you?”
“Obviously. He didn’t even explain at first. Just said, ‘I need her father’s number,’ and I said, ‘Yes, Your Majesty.’”
Bea dissolved into laughter. “You’ve been holding this in all week?”
“I was trying to be a vault,” Claire said theatrically. “But then Imo goes and cracks the surprise, so the vault is open and now there’s confetti everywhere.”
Bea bent to swipe mascara on one eye. “Are you coming, then?”
“Try and stop me. Also I’ve begged your papa to let Gage book the flights. I mean, Beya Slaya. When else am I ever flying first class?” Claire collapsed onto her bed. “Never. The answer is never. I still bring snacks in a Ziploc because I don’t trust airplane food.”
Bea’s heart did that warm, fizzy thing it did when Claire was exactly herself. “I can’t wait.”
“I can only stay a week,” Claire added regretfully. “New job, no leave yet. But I will be there.”
“Even a day, Claire Bear. I’d take a day.”
Claire checked the time. “You’re late. Go finish getting ready.”
“Wait! How’s it going with Marco?”
“He’s pretty and understands the jokes I make about foundations. So far, so good.”
“That’s it? That’s the whole update?”
“Beya Slaya, you aren’t appreciating emotional intimacy in engineering terms.”
“Sorry. Sounds uh…hot.”
“Go network, nerd.”
RAFAEL
Rafael stood near the stone balustrade on the upper terrace, just inside the shadows cast by a marble arch.
The networking event unfolding below was tasteful: oyster canapés, understated name badges, a Q Georgina was away with Hunter, and Gage wasn’t due back until tomorrow.
She padded to the door in bare feet. Checked the peephole. Gage stood on the other side of her door.
Her breath caught. Like something in her chest had misfired.
She pulled the door open. “You’re early,” she breathed.
He looked at her like he’d been starving for something only she could give. “Couldn’t wait,” he said simply.
Six weeks. That’s how long it’d been. Four, that had stretched into six. They’d talked when they could. He’d sent food deliveries during her study break when he knew she would forget to eat.
She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his collar. His arms closed around her.
“Hi,” she whispered.
“Hi.” His voice was low. Rougher than usual.
“You’re here,” she murmured.
“I’m here.”
She tugged him inside. The door closed behind him. “You’re not sleeping on a plane tonight.”
“No,” he said, mouth at her ear. “I’m not sleeping at all.”
He kissed her like he was reclaiming something.
His palm curved around her jaw, tipping her chin just so, deepening it the way only Gage could manage so clear-headedly after twenty hours in transit. The heat hit hard and fast. She felt herself melt into him, like her body had just been waiting for him to switch her from idle to on.
But even as her hands found his chest, even as her mouth parted under his, a thought slipped through the static.
I survived without him.
It hadn’t been brave. Just a quiet she’d learned to live within. She’d still missed him, but she didn’t need him to steady her. She knew how to stand.
That bloomed inside her, like a strange sort of calm. Part pride, part ache.
He pulled back. His voice dropped. “Tell me if I’m going too fast.”
“You’re not.”
He bent, lifted her easily. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her into the bedroom, not bothering with lights.
The faint street glow filtered through the curtains, silvering the sharp line of his jaw, the dark heat in his eyes.
He laid her down like he’d been waiting six weeks just to touch her again.
Then his hands were on her—hooking the waistband of her sleep shorts, dragging them down and off in one rough pull. Her shirt stayed on. So did his.
He dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed, palms pressing her thighs apart. “Open for me.”
She did.
He didn’t tease. Two fingers slid deep inside her. His thumb circled, and her body arched. No hesitation. No buildup. Just the fastest route to ruin.
Her hands flew to the sheets, to his hair. It had been too long. She broke like a code he’d cracked. Hard and fast, body locking, thighs trembling.
Then he stood. Unzipped.
No words. Just the sound of breath and need. He gripped her hips, pulled her to the edge of the bed, and slid into her in one long, hungry stroke.
She gasped into his neck, and he stilled for half a breath. Then he moved.
He was still fully dressed. She was half naked. It didn’t matter.
He thrust again. And again.
The second wave hit harder, tearing through whatever strength she had left. Her legs clamped around him, body arching up, and he followed her over, groaning low against her skin, hips grinding deep as he came.
Silence stretched out. Just breath and sweat and heat.
He collapsed beside her, cooling skin pressed to hers, one arm firm across her waist like a boundary.
Later, he kissed her shoulder. The line behind her ear. The inside of her wrist.
“I should shower,” he said.
“Not yet.”
She wasn’t ready to let him go. She wanted to cling to him, to this moment, when everything felt safe and known.
He stayed.