Chapter 39 Ligaya
LIGAYA
The Texas heat hits me like a wall the second I step out of the Dallas airport. My skin prickles and my brain is foggy. My belly feels heavier than ever. Did someone swap my babies for a sandbag overnight? I’m already regretting the black leggings.
Ami waves from beside a sleek black limo, complete with a uniformed driver.
“What’s all this, Ate?” I ask, confused as to why she’s hijacking some rich dude’s ride.
“Allow me to unveil surprise number one.” She gives me a careful hug. “You look great!”
I snort. “You mean bloated. Why a limo? Who are you trying to impress?”
She nudges my shoulder. “You. Obviously.”
Inside, Ami pops open a mini bottle of sparkling cider and pours it into flutes.
“Cheers to the best spring break ever, thanks to your baby daddy.”
“Tristan?”
“Do you have a second baby daddy?”
“I’m so confused.”
“He called me and said he wanted to make sure we had a great time together. Who am I to get in the way of pampering you?”
“I should call him.”
“Nope. That’s the other thing he insisted on. You are not allowed to call him till after the next surprise.”
“Really?”
“Yes! He wants you to get the whole experience before you call him. And that’s exactly what we’re going to do. Enjoy this vacation, because vacationing with babies will be very different. More diapers and less pampering, I’m guessing.”
“I can’t believe he planned this, and you hid it from me!”
She waves her hand flippantly because she knows I’m not actually upset. Our chatter fills the cavernous space of the limo. Updates on her new position at the base, commentary on my swollen ankles, messages from Mom and Dad, plans for a baby registry.
Suddenly, the limo glides to a stop. For a heartbeat I just stare out the window, slack-jawed. The entrance of the Ritz-Carlton, Dallas rises like something from those glamorous films of early Hollywood. Grand columns, towering glass doors, valets in crisp uniforms striding toward us.
“Smile!” Ami says cheerily, eliciting more confusion. She takes my picture. “For Tristan.”
“What is happening right now?”
“Your second surprise! I told you this was going to be fun.”
The door swings open. The air carries the scent of gardenias under the sun, or is that how old money smells?
A valet extends his hand. I take it and step out. Instantly, someone is unloading our luggage from the trunk with choreographed efficiency.
“Ma’am, welcome,” the valet says, dipping his head.
I blink. “Did he just call me ma’am like I’m some sort of duchess?” I whisper to my sister.
Ami strides alongside me, sunglasses perched on her head, like she owns the whole hotel. “Clearly,” she leans over to mutter in my ear. “We’re royalty now. Adjust your crown.”
I stifle a giggle. Another attendant whisks our bags onto a gleaming brass cart while we’re led through the revolving doors.
The lobby makes me stop in my tracks. Marble floors polished enough to catch our reflections. Chandeliers glitter with trapped stars. Fresh flowers and plush seating everywhere my eyes land.
“Are we even allowed in here, Ate?” I whisper.
Ami loops her arm through mine, steering me forward. “If anyone asks, we’re undercover billionaires. Keep walking.”
Bubbles of excitement build up inside me, only partially made of gas. The staff treat us as though they’ve been waiting all day for our arrival. Before I know it, a sleek key card rests in my hand.
“This way, ladies,” a bellhop says, already pushing our luggage cart toward the elevators.
The ride upward feels surreal. I’m battling the conflicting pulls of anticipation on one end and impostor syndrome on the other. I scramble in my bag for a cash tip worthy of this posh treatment.
“I’ve got it,” Ami says, her hand on my wrist to stop me from scrambling.
When the elevator doors slide open, we follow down a hushed corridor lined with thick carpet muffling our steps. At the end are double doors that lead to a suite. A freaking suite?
Upon entering, I inhale sharply. Sunlight pours in through sweeping windows that frame the Dallas skyline.
There’s a living room larger than the one I have at home with lavish furnishings that cost more than my whole house.
It’s like strolling into a palace of a fairy tale, twenty-first century edition.
Ami lets out a low whistle.
“Forget vacation. Let’s just move in,” she says while giving the attendant a tip.
We dart around like kids on a scavenger hunt, peeking into the bedrooms. King-sized beds dressed in pristine linens, walk-in closets, bathrooms with soaking tubs the size of the Jacuzzis at the community center back home.
My pulse won’t slow. The luxury is intoxicating.
I glance at my sister who has her phone out.
“Smile!”
She captures another one of my surprised expressions.
“This is ridiculous,” I murmur, but my grin stretches so wide my cheeks ache.
“Ridiculous? I think not.” She tosses herself onto the bed, sinking into a cloud of down pillows. “The word you’re looking for is ‘amazing.’”
I kick off my shoes and ease myself beside her. The cushions fluff around me like I’m lathered in cool whipped cream.
“Oh my god. I might not leave this bed ever.” I groan in bliss.
She wiggles to bury herself into the sheets. “That’s what room service is for.”
I roll onto my side, propping my head on my hand. “Why would Tristan do this for us?”
“He’s doing this for you. Isn’t it obvious? He wants to take care of you. I just happened to be the one who took time off from work. I’m the lucky plus-one!”
Heat rushes to my cheeks, that uneasy mix of flattered and nervous. “What if he thinks I’m taking advantage of him?”
Ami shrugs, utterly unbothered. “It’s a grand gesture, that’s all. This isn’t every day. Besides, it’s your body doing all the work of the pregnancy. He wants to help you relax. Let him.”
I hug a pillow against my chest. “Basically, you’re saying stop overthinking and find some ice cream?”
“Exactly.” She stretches her arms over her head. “You worry too much. I, on the other hand, have already decided to steal one of those robes and call it self-care.”
I toss the pillow at her. Maybe she’s right, that this is Tristan’s way of saying I’ve got you. I sink into the bed, enjoying the view of the Dallas skyline shimmering outside.
“I’m gonna call him.”
She clears her throat.
“Actually, before you do, I have something to tell you. It’s time I come clean.”
She looks so pained, I reach over to hold her hand.
“Come clean? About what?”
“The summer of your high school graduation, Tristan came over to the house.”
No part of that sentence made any sense, so I ask her to repeat it.
“Ten years ago, before you went to college . . .” She pauses, waiting for me to catch up.
“You mean when I thought he ghosted me?”
Ami winces. “Yeah, he actually didn’t.”
“Ate, what are you saying? He came to the house?”
“I sent him away. I told him you didn’t want to see him.
I’m sorry for interfering, but at the time I thought I was shielding you from his bullshit.
You complained about him all year! Tristan was a jerk.
A prankster. An ass. That’s all I heard from you, and then suddenly he shows up with flowers and . . .”
“He showed up with flowers?” I ask, choked at the image of nineteen-year-old Tristan with his heart on his sleeve. Now that I’ve witnessed the sensitive side of Tristan, I cringe at how hurt he must have been.
“How could you push him away? How could you let him think I was capable of hurting him like that?”
“It was a mistake, Ligaya. I’m sorry. That’s what I’m trying to say. I was obviously wrong then, and it’s time to correct it now.”
“Oh my god, I hated him for years!”
“I thought I was being a good big sister by protecting you from a sick prank. On some level, you liked the guy. What if he was angling to break your heart?”
“I can’t believe you did that. I thought the worst of him. And treated him terribly for it.”
She looks down at my belly. “Obviously not that terribly.”
I smack her arm. “You know what I mean. God, he must have hated that I’m the one who ghosted him.”
Ami shrugs. “Honestly, he didn’t hold it against you, and he hasn’t held it against me, either.”
“How do you know that?”
“I asked him. When he called me about this plan, I fessed up that when I told him to get lost ten years ago, that wasn’t from you. It was me speaking out of turn.”
“Was he mad?”
“Not at all. In fact, he seemed surprised that I brought it up. He didn’t even think I needed to say anything to you. No need to get upset about it after all these years. You’re not too mad at me, are you?”
“I am very mad at you!”
“Not enough to kick me out, right? C’mon, I was just looking out for my little sister.”
“I need to call him right now.”
She jumps out of the bed.
“Say hi to him for me! Take your time while I soak in that massive tub.”
I press Tristan’s contact information, bursting with the need to thank him for the trip, to scold him for how much it costs, and to apologize for the last ten years of thinking he was a jerk.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he answers. “Are you already by the pool?”
“Tristan! Why would you do something so extravagant! This is costing you a fortune.”
“Actually, it’s not. I was asking around for the best hotels with spa services in Dallas—and don’t argue because you deserve to be pampered!—and the WAGs pulled the strings for the suite. I was just getting a room, but why turn down a good thing, right?”
“The WAGs?”
“Wives and girlfriends of the team. One of them has a friend in Ritz corporate offices and convinced them to upgrade you. A hardworking high school teacher pregnant with twins deserves some TLC, after all.”
My mind is swirling with questions. First of all, every high school teacher in the country deserves TLC! Why me? And why would people I don’t know burn a favor on my behalf? Finally, is Tristan expected to return the favor in some way?
“Tristan, who do I even begin to thank? It’s weird to have people I don’t know pull strings for me. I’m so grateful to you, but does this mean you owe someone a favor? A company like this will want some kind of public statement or something.”
“That’s all figured out. Don’t worry.”
“Does the corporate office person have a crush on you? What if she expects, you know . . .”
He chuckles. “I’m flattered that you think my pretty face is what swayed the executive of a fancy hotel chain. Truth is, we can thank the team for that, too. Next time we’re in Dallas, we’re going to the Ritz hotel bar and posting on social media. It’s a win-win.”
“I have to thank the team and their wives and girlfriends! That’s a lot of people going out of their way for me. Not sure I’m OK with that.”
“Ligaya, you deserve this. They know it. I know it. Ami knows it. Sit back and enjoy your vacation, sweetheart.”
“Really? Just like that? Have a dream vacation in a palatial suite inside the swankiest hotel in the city?”
“Yes. Just like that.”
I pause to consider this unprecedented turn of events. From across the hall, Ami’s out of tune rendition of an Adele love song wafts through the living room. She’s clearly having a blast.
“Ami told me about how she ball-busted you that summer.”
“I’m over it, Ligaya. Please don’t be mad at your sister.”
He sounds sincerely worried about my reaction to Ami’s confession. “You must have been mad at me though, right?” I cringe, remembering how upset I was.
Tristan clears his throat before speaking.
“I wasn’t mad, Ligaya. Just disappointed, but I figured it was for the best since we were off to college, anyway. Your sister was looking out for you. I get it.”
“How did I miss it, Tristan?”
“Miss what?”
“How amazing you are. How thoughtful. We bickered so much in high school. And I held a shitty grudge that clouded how I saw you for so long. But you’re an incredible, thoughtful, kind person. Even then, you had loads more maturity than me. I’m sorry I didn’t see it.”
He’s quiet for a beat.
“Here’s the thing, Ligaya. Maybe Ami got in the way ten years ago, but we’re adults now, with twins on the way. Our babies are coming this summer.” He’s choked up. “I wouldn’t change a thing if it meant everything led to this.”
Tears stream down my face. “Me too. I wouldn’t change a thing if it meant everything led to this.”
“And maybe you couldn’t admit my incredible attributes or appreciate my superior maturity at the time . . .”
We both laugh at his effort to lighten the mood. He continues.
“I can’t recall our prank war with any bitterness whatsoever. We were so obnoxious, but we were obnoxious together. How can I regret how connected we were in our weird way?”
He’s right. My own memories are flooded with fondness.
“What matters is the way you see me today. I want to be the best father for our children.”
Oh my god, be still my beating heart that pounds with emotion and longing. How can I deny myself this joy? This realization? This fact? I want to tell him that he isn’t just the father I’ve dreamed for our kids, but the man of my dreams.
A loud whistle blows from his end of the call. Tristan swears.
“I’m getting summoned for practice. Have to get back to the locker room. Have fun today, OK?”
“I will,” I say and realize how much I’m looking forward to it.