Chapter Five
Being with Miguel had once been as easy as breathing. She’d almost forgotten how nice that was. The past twenty minutes, laughing with him at the newsstand and now sitting in a quieter corner of the gate area, just chatting, had reminded her forcefully just how much she enjoyed his company.
“After all the Funyuns and Oreos, I really shouldn’t still be hungry.” Jane made the declaration as she took another handful of Miguel’s trail mix. “My only excuse is that I missed dinner.”
“Works for me.” He tossed back a handful as well. “Besides, we met over a bag of trail mix, so this isn’t new territory for us.”
“Trail mix and flag football.” She settled more comfortably into the corner between the wall and the booth bench. “It doesn’t get more romantic than that, does it?”
“At least I knew right off how competitive you were. The first thing you said to me was, ‘Well, this should be an easy win.’”
She rolled her eyes. “I was talking about your team versus mine, and you know it.”
He pretended to really ponder it. “Are you sure? ’Cause that’s not how I remember it.”
She pointed at him with her apple juice bottle. “Then I hope you remember how things went down. It was a bloodbath, my friend.”
He shrugged and took up his water bottle. “It’s hard to be embarrassed by a flag football game after covering yourself in cheese and marinara sauce on a first date.”
Jane laughed at the memory, and Miguel’s mishap with a very large, very full piece of ravioli.
He swallowed a mouthful of water. “I sat there waiting for you to leave me in the restaurant and never look back.”
“I actually liked you more after the ravioli incident. If you could laugh at something like that, then I figured you were the kind of guy I wanted to know better.”
Why was she admitting all of this now? She knew the answer, even if she wasn’t ready to admit it to anyone else.
Her feelings for Miguel had never changed.
She’d wanted him in her life, needed him there.
If not for his very different view of where their relationship ought to have been, they might have even still been together.
“I told my mom about the ravioli,” Miguel said. “She said, ‘Don’t worry, m’ijo. You bring her here for tamales, and she will forget that you don’t know how to eat food like a real person.’”
Jane loved Miguel’s mom. Had from the very first time they’d met. “That is a far better reception than my mom gave you. ‘You didn’t tell me he was Mexican.’” Jane cringed at the memory. Her mom had made the observation as if Miguel had been a rabid bat or something.
He reached across the table and took her hand in his. “She wasn’t the first person to say something like that to me, carino. And she won’t be the last.”
Jane held fast to his hand, relishing the familiarity of it. “I know, but I still wish she hadn’t said it. Said it or felt it.”
“You can’t change who your parents are. And they shouldn’t be held against you.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.
Jane closed her eyes and let the warmth of that gesture trickle over her. He’d always had a way of melting her, and she wasn’t one whose head was easily turned.
“I have a question, Jane.”
Her heart dropped. She’d sensed this coming.
He’d want to talk about what had pulled them apart.
She took a breath and opened her eyes once more.
Even with the nervousness of broaching this difficult subject, she found tiny sparks of anticipation bursting within her.
Whispers of hopefulness tiptoed over her skin.
Though she couldn’t imagine how, talking about the chasm between them might help them find a solution. Maybe it was time they tried.
“What’s your question?” She barely managed to speak louder than a whisper. Her pulse strummed in her neck. The thought of talking about what had happened between them scared her, but at the same time she truly hoped he would bring it up.
“If I had come to New York with you like we talked about, where would you have taken me?”
That was it? He wanted to talk about the city? She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Both emotions tugged at her equally. Maybe he wasn’t as interested in trying again as she was.
“Well...” She forced her heart and her head to focus once more. Falling apart wouldn’t help anything. “For starters, I’d take you to the Chrysler Building, since you clearly don’t know what that is.”
He chuckled. She smiled a bit at the sound.
“And Broadway,” she said. “I would definitely take you to a musical on Broadway.”
“Still trying to convert me?” He popped another handful of trail mix into his mouth with his free hand.
She kept her fingers entwined with his. “Absolutely.”
His gaze held hers for a long, drawn-out moment. A question hung there, unspoken, but understood. What is happening between us? She wished she knew exactly.
“Ladies and gentlemen.”
Jane cursed and blessed the gate agent all at the same time.
“As we are certain you have realized from watching the news on the terminal televisions, weather continues to be an issue throughout the country. We apologize for the ongoing wait. However, for those of you at Gate C5 here in the Delta terminal, we have a special treat for you.”
That sounded intriguing. She shot Miguel a questioning look. He just shrugged and shook his head.
“We have five cast members from the Broadway cast of Moulin Rouge! on our flight today, and they have offered to help pass the time by performing for us a song from another favorite musical.”
The gate erupted in applause. Jane squeezed Miguel’s hand.
A tall guy in skinny jeans and a knit beanie belted out above the crowd the opening line of “Take a Chance on Me” by ABBA.
Two other guys joined in with the backup parts, and then another two.
Man, they were good. Perfect harmony and perfectly in sync without a single instrument to back them up.
The singers moved around, engaging the crowd.
In no time, the waiting passengers were clapping along.
After a moment, many started singing, something the performers encouraged.
Jane leaned across the table toward Miguel. “This is the best flight delay ever!”
He was grinning in a way that immediately made her wonder what was going on in his head.
“What?” she asked.
“I met those guys earlier, but I had no idea they were Broadway performers.”
One of the performers reached their booth. He held out a hand of invitation to her as he kept singing.
“Go for it,” Miguel encouraged, loudly.
She didn’t need any more of a push. She took the guy’s hand and let him pull her to her feet, where she joined many other passengers dancing and singing along. An instant later, Miguel was up as well, and all five of the performers gathered around him.
Above the ongoing sing-along, the lead called out, “Take it, Miguel.”
Jane started to laugh, trying to imagine him belting out ABBA. For one thing, he likely didn’t know the words. For another, he was not a singer. But her chuckle died in the instant Miguel jumped in as impromptu lead singer.
Though he didn’t get every word right and he got every note at least a little bit wrong, his version of the chorus was contagiously enthusiastic. He took her hands in his and danced with her. As much as he wasn’t a singer, he was even less a dancer. He threw himself into the moment with a grin.
It was ravioli all over again.
She’d always loved that about him. He could take an embarrassing moment and turn it into a barrel of laughs.
The actual singers took over again. Miguel wrapped his arms around her and spun her about, still dancing in his ridiculously ungraceful way. His laughter was contagious; Jane couldn’t keep singing because she was laughing so hard.
Jane leaned into his embrace, still laughing at his antics as the song ended.
The lead singer stepped up close to the two of them and whispered, “Take a chance on the guy.”
Quick as that, he rejoined the other performers and they launched into “Dancing Queen.” Someone in the group must have been in the cast of Mamma Mia! at some point. Passengers began arriving from nearby gates for the concert. Jane, however, settled her attention on Miguel.
“Did you put them up to this?” She hadn’t decided what she hoped his answer would be.
He held her tighter. “I didn’t, but I’m not complaining.”
Jane set her arms around his middle. “This doesn’t fix things, you know.”
“I know. But we’re here, together, and you’re smiling at me again. This is the best day I’ve had in three months.”
Me, too.