Rule #9
IN CASE OF TEARS, BLAME ALLERGIES
CAI
I was angry, mostly at myself. Sonny isn’t wrong; Trevor might be a dick, but what does that make me? The girl who spent her savings to chase him to Puerto Rico with an incoming hurricane, no less. I am the loser who still feels a sick jolt of panic at the thought of losing him forever.
My brain knows better; it’s clear how pathetic it all is. My emotions? Not so much. They are throwing a full-on tantrum, complete with tears and a dramatic exit.
I splash cold water on my face, but when I look in the mirror, my eyes are still puffy and red-rimmed. Great. I can’t even cry like a mysterious, tragic heroine. I just look like the same moody middle child who hid in this same bathroom to cry when I was teased about my weight or nerdy t-shirt.
There’s a light tap at the door.
“Cai?” Sonny’s voice is low and cautious. “You okay in there?”
I know I have to face Sonny, so I might as well get it over with. I squeeze my eyes shut for a second and then open the door.
He stands there looking genuinely apologetic, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “I’m really sorry,” he adds. “I shouldn’t have pushed like that.”
“It’s fine,” I grumble, unconvincingly. “I’m just … tired. And hungry. And apparently on the world’s longest emotional roller coaster.”
Sonny is nodding, his eyes soft and searching my face.
“Yeah, and then this jerk comes along and decides to dump a whole bag of salt in the wound.” He gives me a small crooked smile.
“For the record, I don’t think you’re pathetic.
I think you’re loyal. Maybe a little too loyal, but that’s not the worst thing in the world. ”
I let out a short, watery laugh and glance back at my reflection. “Tell that to my eyes. It looks like I lost a fight with a beehive.”
Sonny perked up, a mischievous spark lighting up his expression. “Actually… I might be able to help with that.” Before I can protest, he gently grabs my hand and tugs me back toward my room. “Come on. Doctor’s orders.”
I let him pull me along, too drained to resist. “You have a medical degree I don’t know about?”
“Close enough. I once survived crunch time on three hours of sleep a night for two weeks.” He digs into his backpack and triumphantly holds up a small bottle.
“Victory eye drops. Clears redness in minutes. Trust me, I’ve tested this in the trenches of deadline hell.
Don’t worry, it’s a new bottle. Never opened. ”
I sit on the edge of the bed while he hands me the bottle. The drops were cool and soothing. When I blink a few times and look up, Sonny is watching me, eyebrows drawn together, seeming concerned.
Or pitying me, my little internal gremlin says, rearing her ugly head again. I push her back down.
“Better?” he asks softly.
“Yeah.” I manage a real smile this time. “Thanks. For the drops… and for not making me feel like a total disaster.”
“You’re not a disaster,” he says, leaning against the doorframe. “You’re human. And honestly? Kind of adorable when you’re all soft and vulnerable like this.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks. I look away, suddenly very interested in the bottle in my hands.
“Now close your eyes. I have this cooling eye mask, which should help with the swelling. It’s some special gel.
It’s nicer when it’s chilled, but it’s soothing either way.
” I’m doubtful, but I do as I’m told, and instantly the cooling effects of the gel eye mask calmed my battered and beaten eyes.
“I feel like it’s better tight, but if you want, I can loosen it. ”
“No!” I say quickly. Not wanting him to adjust the relaxing mask. I can feel the tension that has been gathering in the front of my mind loosening. It’s being melted away.
“What were you using this for?” I ask him.
“Oh, my eyes get tired staring at a computer screen all day, and this helps.”
“So was your trip to Puerto Rico for work?”
“Yeah, a conference.”
Maybe it’s true what they say about taking away one sense heightening your others, because I feel rather than see that Sonny has more he wants to say. I can picture him there fidgeting, trying to find the words to tell me something. I’m about to ask him what’s on his mind when he speaks.
“I meant to tell you earlier. I can very much relate to how you felt growing up.”His words are heavy with emotion.
I began to sit up and pull off the mask to listen face-to-face, but he quickly reached out to stop me.
“No, no, no. You rest those eyes. I can tell you about it while you lie there.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it’s actually easier, I think.”
“Okay, if you’re sure.” I lie back down and get comfortable.
“Yeah, I’m sure. And honestly, there’s not much to tell. I grew up with a single mom and four sisters, and we moved around a lot. I was very lonely, and it was particularly hard feeling like no one shared my interests or wants while growing up. So when you said that earlier… yeah, I can relate.”
“What interests did you have?” I ask, trying to picture him as a young kid.
“Oh, nothing weird, just stuff that they thought was a waste. Like I got really into playing… chess.”
“Chess? And they got upset?”
“Not upset, but more like they didn’t get it.
They didn’t understand why I would like it.
They didn’t want to talk about it, share experiences, or play with me.
So it felt lonely. I sometimes got the feeling that they wanted me to get in trouble or be rowdy.
Because those were normal boy things. Instead, they got me.
And they just didn’t know how to relate. ”
I nod in understanding. “I get it. It’s hard to feel accepted when you don’t have that connection with anyone.”
I want to reach out and grab his hand. The words don’t seem like enough. But I hesitate; a hand touch feels so intimate right now in light of his confession. I’d be crossing a line, and I instantly feel the guilt I’ve been carrying surface again.
Suddenly, I hear the front door slam and raised voices. “Are people arguing?” Sonny asks.
“Nope, they’re just saying hello. The loud Cuban stereotypes are true in my case.” I sit up and pull the mask off. “How do my eyes look?”
Sonny looks at me earnestly and says, “Dazzling.”
I smile. “Welp, want to go meet more of my family?”
SONNY
The first time I attended a convention, after Silent Knights blew up, I was completely overwhelmed.
From every direction, fans in elaborate costumes swarmed us; praise, criticism, and rapid-fire questions.
Security formed a loose perimeter, but it still felt like walking through a pixelated mob.
I was flattered, sure, but mostly out of my depth.
I’ve done dozens of panels since, and it’s gotten easier with each one.
Standing here, watching the rest of Cai’s family pour through the front door, a weirdly similar anxiety strikes me.
The sheer number of people isn’t even close, yet the energy makes ten feel like a hundred.
They are buzzing, talking rapidly in a mix of Spanish and English, hands flying animatedly.
Most are older, in Cai’s parents’ generation, and Abuela is nosing her way between them, offering greetings.
Rey and Alex are among them, as well as Crispi, Cai’s brother.
No wife there, I notice. A few older kids, I assume tweens or teens, loiter around the edges of the group, faces fixed to phone screens.
One man carries a potted plant, another has a stack of framed photos, and one woman, whom Cai later identifies as Tia Elena, clutches a large wooden rosary with a heavy cross as if it were body armor.
We are watching from the hall opening, tucked away enough that we haven’t been noticed, but can still see them conversing in the front room.
Cai stays close, pointing out each new arrival with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
The cooling mask has done its job—her eyes no longer look puffy.
She can probably get away with claiming allergies if anyone asked.
Still, I kept catching myself watching her, hyper-aware of every little shift in her expression.
It’s strange. Earlier, when she couldn’t see me because of the mask, the words had come easier.
I’d almost told her about my work, about the launch pressure, and the endless calls I’m ignoring.
The second the mask came off, so did my courage.
I’ve already made her cry once today. The last thing I want is to disappoint her, too.
The insistent buzz of my phone in my pocket is harder to ignore. More texts from the team, who are clearly ignoring my earlier guidance to figure it out.
I hesitate for a minute, but deciding it will be faster to just make a call, I turn to Cai and say, “Can you give me one second?”
Cai looks at the phone and then at me and says, “Yeah, of course!”
I retreat a few steps into the hallway and ring up the Creative Director, Jake, who answers on the first ring, “Hey Boss, what’s up?”
“Jake, has your team gotten the direction that all approvals and questions need to be routed through Ben for the next 24 hours? That I’m out of the office?”
“Uhhh… Yes?” Jake says more like a question than an answer.
“Then why am I getting inundated with emails and messages for simple approvals that could be handled by any of you?”
“I didn’t know you were. Sorry, Boss, I’ll make sure it’s addressed.”
“Please see that it is. Thank you, Jake.”
I hang up, adrenaline spiking. I am usually a very open and friendly boss, probably why everyone feels comfortable coming to me. However, I know that every now and then it’s important to ensure authority is respected. Doesn’t make it easier.
I turn back to see Cai looking at me; her cheeks are flushed, and her lips are slightly parted. My heart rate picks up a little, not just because of the phone call. She’s a vision as she watches me, eyes exploring.
I step towards her, “Sorry about that.”
She shakes her head. “Oh no, please! No need to apologize. Sounded important.”Her hand touches my arm slightly.
“Nah, just work stuff. Not that important.” I’m not sure why I say that. My work has always been the most important thing. The adrenaline, the whirlwind events, the sensory overload of all the new foods and smells- that hand on my arm- it was causing a disconnect between my head and my mouth.
“Cayetana! ?Hombre, al fin!” Came from someone in the crowd, cutting into my thoughts, and we turned from each other to face the mob.
Cai gives a small, nervous smile as the family descends.
“Remember when I told you they’d assume we were a couple?” she mutters through her teeth.
“Yeah…”
“Well… that’s about to happen a lot.”
Before I can respond, they swarmed her like a colorful, loud hurricane to match the one closing in, kissing her cheeks, asking rapid questions, and pulling her into hugs. I shake hands and nod where I can, smiling through the barrage of names I’ll never remember.
Cai’s cheeks flush deeper with every new introduction. I try not to look too happy about it. I want to step in, wrap an arm around her waist, and claim her as mine. As if noticing my eyes on her, Cai looks over.
Her smile’s infectious and unrestrained.
Realizing she holds my gaze, she pulls a face, sticking out her tongue at the side of her mouth, scrunching up her nose, and crossing her eyes.
It catches me off guard, and I almost guffaw.
I turn it into a small cough, but I nearly claim the title of biggest dork in the world, and I don’t even care.
They may call her lots of things, but no one can call Cai predictable.