Chapter 2
CARLO
“What did you have delivered that needed a signature, Mami?” I hope my voice is much more calm and collected than I feel, but she’s never one to be fooled by any of her kids.
“Dr. Chen set me up to get my blood pressure medication delivered every quarter instead of always having to go to the pharmacy. It’s much easier.
” Guilt slithers through me that she was feeling put out about having to pick it up and I didn’t know.
My sisters and I have picked up her medicine when we could, but not always.
I need to take better care of her, the way my best friend Taran takes care of his mom.
She is clearly reading my thoughts the way only a mother can when she reiterates, “Picking it up has never been an issue, but this is much easier. I don’t have to worry about remembering and running out.
Now, back to meeting your coworker. I didn’t see a ring, and don’t act like your reaction wasn’t telling.
What’s the story there? Anything going on?
” I groan, throwing my head back into the wall behind my chair.
“Mami, please. You know you will be the first to know if anything of note is going on with my love life. I like her, but she’s not interested.
She doesn’t date coworkers, said it gets too messy when I tried to ask her out, which is fair.
She was polite but firm. We’re friendly at work, that’s it. ” She frowns thoughtfully.
“That’s a crying shame, but I get it. She looked like she was about to drop her tablet when I mentioned you, so I’m hazarding a guess that she likes you right back.
Maybe she’ll come around to the idea eventually,” she says hopefully.
She and Taran’s mom Evelyn, who is one of her best friends, are both like this.
They found the loves of their lives in their husbands, and all they want is for their children to find the same.
It’s equal parts adorable and annoying in the most loving way.
When Taran started dating his now fiancée Lyra, they were ridiculous about him having a girlfriend.
I can’t help thinking affectionately about how they were crying in each other’s arms when Taran and Lyra got engaged just a few weeks ago.
She means well with immediately latching onto the idea of me and Tania, but it sucks to think about her.
To wonder about her. All of the little “what ifs” drive me to distraction.
If I had met her at a bar or something would she be interested?
Why is she so against dating a coworker, did something happen in the past?
Why did she seem upset this morning? I’ll probably never find out the answers to these questions, since I don’t want to pry when she clearly wants me out of her business.
My mind flips back to her like a favorite annotated page in a book anyway.
I try to push it all to the back of my mind and focus on my mom instead.
“I wouldn’t get your hopes up, I’m not going to pursue her when she made it super clear that coworkers are off-limits. Did you not teach all of us that ‘no’ is a complete sentence?”
“Mijo, I told you, she likes you. I could tell the second I said your name. She would not do well in poker against Daniella. She may need time but I have a good feeling about her. I had a good feeling about Daniella and look at how happy she and Lucia are. I had a good feeling about Lyra when Taran brought her around. I have a perfect record.” She winks at me and squeezes my hand.
Alejandra Hernandez is no fool, and misses nothing when it comes to reading people.
For the sake of my sanity, I need her to be wrong this time.
If Tania likes me back, then why torture us both?
Why not give it a shot? We’re both reasonable adults, if things don’t work out, we can still remain professional. Right?
“Here’s to believing in miracles, Mami,” I tell her with a wistful smile, raising my water glass in a mock salute. She grows a little more serious.
“You really like her. I’ve never seen you longing for a woman like this.”
It’s annoying how well my mom can read me.
I’ve been longing for Tania Castillo since the day she started at work.
I could barely catch my breath when I saw her for the first time.
A shiny, dark, thick ponytail with feline eyes the color of melted chocolate.
Her olive skin and lush curves that had me breaking a sweat and making my entire body come alive.
Then she also had to go and be completely sweet and funny.
How fucking dare she. She and Ray became thick as thieves right away, and the way they joked around made me smile so hard.
It took a couple of months for me to even find an opportunity and the courage to approach her to ask her out after work one day at the hub when everyone else was pretty much gone.
I had caught her looking at me a few times, and it gave me hope that she was interested.
I tried to take getting shot down as best I could.
She was nothing but polite about it, almost seeming regretful, but that last part may have been wishful thinking.
I completely respect that she has firm boundaries, and I’m glad that we’re still friendly, but nobody likes getting rejected and feeling foolish.
It hurt. The worst part is, I can’t seem to stop thinking about her.
Every day that I have to see her joking around, chatting, and looking so painfully beautiful is a complete gut punch.
Each laugh I hear is like getting a tiny paper cut, because I’m not the one making her laugh.
It’s a good thing I only see her around the hub in the morning or at the end of the day.
If I had to spend all day working with her, the torture would almost be too much. I sigh before I respond to my mom.
“It’s fine, Mami. I have to respect her wishes. I’ll get over it.”
Not likely, since it’s been a year and here I am still pining after her, but hopefully saying it will make it true.
I’m saved from her grilling me more about it when my dad hollers that he’s home, the sound of the reusable grocery bags crinkling accompanying his boisterous voice as he brings them in.
I give my mom a wordless, pleading look to let it drop, and she gives my hand a squeeze before we get up to help him.
I’m eternally grateful that while she likes to play matchmaker and be very present in my life, she also knows when to back off.
She’s like that with all four of her kids, her ability to know exactly what each of us needs at any given moment is uncanny.
I hit the lottery getting her for a mom.
We help my dad unload the salad ingredients and get to washing and chopping while he gets out of his suit from work.
It’s not too long until my sisters start ambling in from their respective jobs.
My oldest sister Lucia manages to pull off a cross between the teacher she is with a rock goddess, while her wife Daniella is still in her vet tech scrubs.
My youngest sister Anita looks as though she came right off the fashion runway as always, likely clothes curated from the boutique where she works.
Rosa, who is only 18 months older than me, is in her usual librarian uniform of stylish yet comfy soft blouse and leggings.
All of my sisters are carbon copies of our mom with their warm eyes, wavy, thick hair, delicate facial structure, and slight builds.
Daniella is slightly darker than us, her hair textured, her eyes a striking deep hazel, and almost a foot taller than the rest of the women.
She’s even taller than me, and she gives me endless shit about it.
I love her for it. Before we met her, Lucia waxed poetic like a lovesick bard about her beauty.
Now they’ve been happily married for 4 years.
Once we’re gathered around the table with enough food to feed an army, my dad does his cursory interrogation of all of us about work.
This is when my sore spot with my family is usually poked.
My sisters are all super successful in my dad’s eyes compared to me.
A teacher, a vet tech, an up and coming fashion designer, and a head librarian are all jobs he deems worthy of his children.
They also never get in trouble, never do anything stupid, and they’re consummate daddy’s girls, even Daniella.
He’s completely wrapped around their little fingers.
While he would never say it outright to my face, I know my job is a disappointment to him.
His biggest wish was for me to go to college for pre-law, and then onto law school like him.
He thinks hauling packages is beneath my intelligence and ability.
Becoming a lawyer as accomplished as he is should have been my path, anything less is not good enough for Hector Hernandez’s only son.
It’s always been this way. Instead of falling in line, I became a shit stirrer and leaned into his disappointment about me.
College was not something I was interested in, even though I enjoy school and love to read.
Maybe I’ll go back to school someday, but I wanted to get to work after high school so I could save up to strike out on my own and do some adventuring.
By the time I was 23, I had taken a few kickass trips around the world and saved up enough of a cushion to comfortably afford my apartment so that I could get out from under his suffocating expectations.