Chapter 15 #2
There’s also an email from the man who runs the local farmer’s market asking if I’d like to do a popup for their big fall festival next month, at the end of September.
It’s a huge event that people flock to for pumpkins, fresh apple cider donuts, fall produce, face painting, a small petting zoo, and even some carnival games.
Getting a booth there would garner a lot of attention for the bar.
I reply to both emails, and look over our numbers so far for the month that Wayne sent me.
We’re still doing well, but we need fresh ways of getting new customers.
I’m hinging a lot on this collab, it’ll be the first one we’ve ever done.
These are the kinds of things I want to concentrate on instead of the traditional advertising my dad likes to do, because social media is only going to become more and more powerful as a marketing tool.
This is my opportunity to show him that leaving the bar to me will mean leaving it in good hands. I want him to be at ease knowing I can take El Abrevadero to the next level, and keep up with the times. Abuela’s legacy will be secure.
I’m pulled from my office after a couple of more hours of working on paperwork and emails when I get a text from Celeste.
My Wife
Heads up that I’m on my way in case you’re walking around naked, Casanova
I snort, because she does this type of check in text almost every time she’s coming back from work or wherever she is.
Appreciate the warning. I’m getting dressed and sending my nudist friends home as I type this
Aw, don’t let me ruin the fun. I can always go to Tania’s
I make the decision to get slightly serious with her.
I have the most fun hanging out with you. Come home and have dinner with me, I have everything ready for arepas.
The floating dots appear and disappear a couple of times before her response comes through.
Who could refuse an offer like that? See you soon
Drive carefully, wife
With a few taps on my phone, Maluma’s infectious reggaeton music fills the kitchen through my bluetooth speaker.
I let the birds out so they can hang out with me while I cook.
Hermes goes to his toys to play, Daisy flits around making her cute chirps, and Tink immediately flies to my shoulder, doing little tippy taps with accompanying head bobs to the beat of the music.
I’ve discovered that this bird is a tiny dancer, she LOVES reggaeton.
I can’t help dancing with her a little as I grab the dough, pickled veggies, and cheese from the fridge.
The pork is falling apart on the stove and smelling absolutely incredible.
Forming the dough into arepas before cooking them off, I start to find peace in the rhythm of it all.
Dancing around the kitchen with my adorable bird, while making my favorite meal for the woman I like, is probably the most fun I’ve had in a long time.
This is the scene she walks into when she gets home, her bemused face lit by the sun drenching the kitchen in golden light.
Without a word, I impulsively take her hand and give her a twirl, leading her into a basic step.
She wobbles but quickly starts to follow me, huffing a laugh as she watches Tink fly to the nearby perch next to Daisy before continuing to bop along with us.
“Didn’t mean to crash your dance party,” she says wryly.
“You’re joining it, not crashing it,” I say as I twirl her again. “How was the diner today?”
“Uneventful, but decent tips. I almost have enough saved up to get my non-profit off the ground,” she says, a hopeful gleam in her eyes that makes them look almost blue.
“Fuck yeah,” I tell her, letting go of her hand to turn to the stove and flip the arepas currently cooking.
“It smells great, just like the ones at the bar,” she remarks.
Giving the pork a stir, I grab a spoon to scoop some up before bringing it to her lips.
“Here, tell me what you think,” I say, my voice going a little husky just looking at her.
She hesitates, looking at me speculatively before closing her mouth around the spoon.
Her eyes damn near roll back into her head as she tastes it.
Watching her mouth pull off of the spoon, followed by her reaction to trying my food, is the single most erotic thing I’ve ever seen in my life, and I have to fight a groan. She’s slowly killing me.
I want to see how she’ll react to me doing the same thing, so I take another spoon to try the pork, holding eye contact with her as I taste it.
Her eyes go to my mouth and throat as they work, a little color stealing into her cheeks as her mouth parts.
Yep, she’s affected by me, and it makes my heart go into a sprint.
“That’s pretty tasty,” she says, her voice a little strained.
“Delicious,” I agree as I remove the finished arepas from the stove. “You hungry?”
“Starving,” she replies.
I don’t think we’re talking about the food.
Her eyes are pure smoke as they bore into me, before she shakes her head a little to seemingly clear it.
“What are we doing?” she almost whispers.
“I don’t know what this is, Celeste, but I’m curious to find out. Are you?”
She swallows hard.
“Curious and terrified,” she says.
“Same,” I reply as I huff out a laugh.
“We’re still messes. At least I am. That hasn’t changed since the last time we danced around whatever the hell we’re feeling,” she says, her chin lifted almost defiantly. It’s as if she’s daring me to contradict her or skate over the fact that we both have work to do.
“Maybe we can help each other navigate the mess. Do it together?”
My dad’s words float back to me like I can actually see them in my mind’s eye. “You can’t be so scared of what may happen that you lose enjoying the wonderful moments with her,” he’d said.
“I don’t want to let being scared make me miss out on something that could be amazing. You’re amazing, Celeste,” I tell her baldly.
Her eyes flash before she laughs with zero humor whatsoever.
“There is nothing amazing about me, Gage. It’s been pretty well beaten into me how useless and angry I am. Use your pretty words on someone who deserves them.”
I shake my head vehemently.
“Nope. Not letting you talk about my wife like that. You’re hilarious, smart as a whip, and so beautiful it steals my breath.
” I’m on a roll now, apparently, because this woman needs to see what an incredible person she is.
I have three months worth of wanting her all built up, and the words that have been flying around my head in that time are leaving my mouth without my say so.
My body instinctually takes another step closer to her.
“I’m obsessed with your eyes. They’re a perfect barometer of your emotions.
When you’re happy, the gray is crystal clear and becomes slightly more blue.
When you’re upset, they’re like storm clouds.
I love how lightning flashes in them when you’re angry, and how they shine like pure silver when you’re excited. They’re mesmerizing, mi vida.”
She looks shellshocked for what feels like a full minute, those mesmerizing eyes wide as saucers, before she recovers with a shaky breath.
“Most dudes focus on the red hair, and whether the carpet matches the drapes. Meanwhile, you’re out here spouting poetry about my eyes. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?” She swats at the moisture building in said eyes with a self-deprecating laugh.
“You don’t have to do anything with it. I just needed to let you know. You are not useless or too angry. You’ve been through hell and have come out the other side one of the most incredible, strong people I’ve ever met.”
Her face goes tight, lower lip wobbling for a second.
Then, it’s like a dam has broken in her, the wall holding her emotions back crashing down completely.
Tears stream down her face as her body shakes with sobs.
I immediately gather her to me, hugging her tightly while running a soothing hand up and down her back.
She throws her arms around my neck before burying her face into my chest.
“I guess I really needed to hear that,” she murmurs after a couple of minutes, her voice muffled in my shirt as her sobs start to quiet.
“Then I’ll make sure I tell you all the time,” I promise her, squeezing her more tightly.
“Jesus, I’m getting my snotty tears all over your shirt, sorry,” she says, trying to pull back.
Normally I would let her go, but I sense she still needs to be comforted and held.
Has anyone ever really comforted her and held her?
From what I’ve gleaned of her past, I’m pretty sure the answer is no.
It makes me almost shake with the need to be that for her.
Dropping a kiss to the top of her head, I keep my arms around her. She relaxes and leans further into me, the scent of her floral shampoo and syrup from the diner enveloping my senses. Once she seems completely calm, I slightly pull away, but still keep my hands on her back.
“Feel better?” I ask.
She nods against my chest, and I bring my forehead to hers as she looks up at me.
“Sorry again about your shirt,” she rasps. Our breaths mingle with our mouths so close.
“Don’t even worry about it,” I reassure her as I stroke her hair, pressing a kiss to her forehead without even thinking.
Her hands fist my shirt, keeping me close to her while we simply watch each other for a charged moment that seemingly stretches into an eternity.
My attention is pulled by movement on the counter next to us, where Hermes is about to steal an arepa.
“Those are not good for you bud, you’re having dinner soon,” I lightly admonish him as I reluctantly free a hand from Celeste to have him step up off of the counter.
“We should probably eat before it gets cold, or the birds take it all,” Celeste murmurs as she lets go of my shirt.
“Beautiful Celeste,” Hermes says, apparently in agreement with her.
I love my birds more than life, but they keep ruining special moments with their shenanigans.