Chapter 26
chapter twenty-six
gabe
Tala
Did Luna get home okay?
You’re both not replying so I’m assuming you’re together. Tell her to reply when she can.
I studied the ingredients taking up the entirety of Luna’s kitchen counter and thought of how much time and effort meal prep would take. “Are you sure you want to cook? We can order in, or I can go?—”
“I’m sure. But don’t think I’m doing this by myself.”
I looked at Luna. Again. I couldn’t keep my eyes away from her for more than a few minutes, even though I couldn’t tell why. Maybe it was because the last time I’d been with her was that trip to Atlanta and I was adjusting to the freedom of talking with her openly. After six months apart, being with her should have felt awkward. Instead, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
When we arrived at her apartment, she took a quick shower to “wash off the plane gunk” and emerged from her room in a loose, patterned dress. It was eye-catching and intricate with a mix of warm colors, and it matched her personality completely.
She’d fixed her hair in a long braid that fell over one shoulder, and for a second, I saw my hand wrapped around it as I kissed her neck. I froze at the clarity of that vision and the subsequent warmth that spread through my body.
Where the hell had that come from?
“Don’t space out on me, Gabe,” she said, her eyebrows drawn together. “You’re going to help cook.”
I yanked myself out of my stupor and pretended I hadn’t just disrespected her in my head. “What do you want me to do first?” Aside from getting my mind out of the gutter, that was. I rarely had time with her. I couldn’t ruin this with inappropriate thoughts.
Luna put me to work slicing garlic and onions while she boiled water for the pasta and prepared the ground beef and hotdogs. As we cooked, she told me about her trip, including Jason’s attempts at vegetarian Filipino recipes. I could have listened to her talk forever.
“Did you tell your parents about your minor?” I asked in the middle of dinner.
Her smile wobbled. “I didn’t want to kill the mood. I was going to tell them after New Year’s, but Papa started talking about my grades and how I should transfer my credits to a local school, and I chickened out.” She blew out a breath, her eyes dropping to her plate. “I was worried he’d insist on me staying if I told him about the fashion courses.”
“Could he keep you there if you didn’t want to stay?”
“I mean, he wouldn’t kidnap me or anything. But I’d find it hard not to obey him if he gave me an ultimatum. It’ll just be adding another item to his list of ways I disappointed him.” Luna threw in that last sentence as though it was a bit of trivia about someone else rather than the revelation that it was.
I put down my fork. “Why do you think you’ve disappointed him?”
“Lots of reasons.” Raising her hand, she held up one finger. “First off, I’m not a guy. Papa and Mama only wanted one girl and one boy, and they thought I’d be the boy. Luckily, they got it right with Lonzo.” Two fingers. “Second, I was the worst behaved kid. I cried too much, and I would space out at random times. I broke his favorite mug. My grades have never been as good as Lonzo’s, and I didn’t study what Papa wanted me to study.”
“Management is a practical course.” I wanted to kick myself for that stupid response. She had shared something incredibly personal, and I should have given her reassuring words. A pat on her shoulder. Anything other than a comment on her degree of choice, for Christ’s sake.
If she was bothered, she didn’t show it. She seemed lost in thought, her gaze moving past me. “It’s not what he chose for me. Nursing was the logical way to go because I had experience with Lola, and it would be easy to find work anywhere. Mama said I picked up on it quickly. But after seeing everything Lola went through and going through parts of it with her . . .” She shook her head. “I don’t regret taking care of Lola because I love her, but that experience really affected me. I can’t do that again, even if it’s for people I don’t know.”
Hearing the tremor in her voice, I reached out and put my hand over hers where it was fisted on the table. Her hand tightened, and I started to lift mine, thinking she didn’t want to be touched. But then she opened her hand and turned it palm up, and what else could I do but let mine rest on hers?
The contact zinged up my arm, this sense of settling into place creeping through my body. I nearly removed my hand for that very reason, but her fingers closed around my own. Her gaze held mine with a silent plea and I couldn’t let her go.
“I can’t imagine what that must have been like,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry for what you went through. You and your family.”
Her eyes grew watery. She blinked hard and blew out a breath. Squeezing my fingers, she murmured, “Yeah, well. Life can be unfair, right?”
I nodded. “Right.”
“It doesn’t mean it’s all bad.”
Her ability to stay hopeful astounded me. I could no longer attribute it to her being sheltered or spoiled or even young. I’d lost my optimism before I hit my twenties. Whether hers was a choice or simply engraved in her DNA, I hoped she’d never lose it. That sparkle in her eyes, the glow on her face—I couldn’t envision a world where Luna had neither.
She grimaced. “I’m still dreading telling my parents about the fashion thing, though. At least we’ll be in different continents, and I doubt Papa will come all the way here to pull me out of school.” Her shoulders squared, and she set her chin. “I’ll just have to keep my grades up so he won’t have a reason to complain too much.”
“I’m sure you can do it,” I said.
“Yeah?”
“Absolutely.” I absently ran my thumb across the base of her palm. How did her skin feel so soft? “And if you need any help, let me know.”
“As long as it’s not related to the classes you teach?” she asked with a light laugh.
The reminder brought me back to my senses. “Right.” I let go of her hand and grabbed my fork again, pretending I didn’t notice her smile falter.
I’d never hated my job more than I did now with her disappointment staring me in the face. I could try to be there for her, but my efforts wouldn’t count for much if I always kept them within specific constraints.
Wanting to salvage the mood, I nudged her foot under the table. I’d never done that childish move in my life. “Hey. Thank you for cooking. I was looking forward to this.”
“You cooked, too,” she said as she twirled pasta around her fork. “And now you know the recipe, so you can make it whenever you want.”
It wouldn’t be the same. Not without her there. “Have you always enjoyed cooking?” I asked.
She scrunched her nose in thought. “Actually, no. It was something I did because we all had to help out at home. Ate and Lonzo tried to get out of cooking duty, and I realized it was my chance to . . . I don’t know, bond with Mama and Lola on my own, I guess. We talked about the most random things, and they never made me feel stupid about asking so many questions. It was fun.” She chuckled softly and bit her lip.
“It became your quality time with them,” I said.
“Exactly. Then I learned to love cooking. Not so much the act itself but how food makes people happy. It brings us together, especially us Filipinos. Our parties are never complete without food.”
The more Luna spoke, the more she opened her world to me. I loved how she didn’t just talk for the sake of being heard. She talked to share a part of herself, like how she cooked as a way of caring for her loved ones. I wondered if that was her subconsciously negotiating her place within her family—her wanting to prove that she brought value.
“It’s the same for Brazilians,” I told her. “Food as a social experience. Dinners, especially.” So much so that Ma had gotten mad at my father whenever he missed dinners. To her, work was not an excuse to skip family time.
Luna tilted her head and looked at me intently. “Do you remember a lot about Rio?”
“No. Most of what I remember came from pictures and my parents’ stories.”
“You never went back?”
“Never, though my father keeps telling me to visit.” My last conversation with him returned to my mind, but I shoved it away. I wouldn’t let that ruin my time with Luna.
“Do you want to?”
The automatic denial died on my tongue. Did I? My logical side said I had no sentimental ties to my birth country. I had left Brazil too young to consider it home, and my relationship with my relatives was mostly comprised of the standard greetings and updates from my father.
Despite that, an undeniable part of me was intrigued about my heritage. I wondered if I’d feel a sense of homecoming when I went there and saw people who resembled me. If my tio and tia would feel more like family when I met them in my native land.
I realized that I’d taken longer than normal to respond to Luna, but she didn’t prod. Instead, she waited patiently for me to speak.
“Yes,” I said. “I want to go there one day.”
Her smile came in a flash. “I think that would be great, Gabe. Like a rediscovery. And I’m sure your dad would be so happy to have you there.”
For a moment, I allowed myself to simply take her in. The crinkled outer edges of her eyes as she smiled at me. The strands of her hair that had escaped her braid and fell across her forehead. The brown-red lips that stretched in a generous curve.
She was beautiful, Luna—not just in a physical sense, but in how she was so full of life and joy. I couldn’t believe I got to be here with her—that she gave me another chance after I screwed things up yet again.
“I never thanked you for my birthday breakfast.”
Her lips parted.
“I know you did it, Luna.” The right side of my mouth pulled up. “Only you would think of getting me a balloon.”
“Did you leave it at the hotel?” Her eyebrow arched in accusation.
“It popped in the elevator as I was leaving.”
She gave a loud gasp. “Not in the elevator!”
“There was a family in there with me. The child cried, and his parents glared at me.”
“I’m sorry.” She grinned. “So is that a no on balloons next time?”
Warmth radiated through my chest at the idea of a next time. “I loved the balloon, Luna. I loved everything.”
“Yay, I’m glad. You deserved to have a birthday surprise.”
That concept was foreign to me and wholly unexpected. Even as a child, my birthdays were predictable. My mother would prepare the same dishes and the parties would be laidback after the big New Year festivities. Once I started living alone, my birthday became just any other day with the exception of a special meal—for one. I never expected that could change.
Then Luna came along.
I wondered if I would get to spend my birthday with her someday. I had stopped wishing things for myself years ago, but I’d wished for that very thing when I blew out the candle on the cake she sent me.
And for the first time in decades, I almost believed my wish could come true.