Chapter 14
chapter fourteen
juan pablo
You know when in a book someone says something mad extra like, “I could feel when she walked into the room”?
I’m here to tell you, it’s not all bullshit.
Because I swear I could sense Priscilla coming into the crowded room where we were hosting my dad’s party.
Before I even heard her, the hair on my arms stood up and the back of my neck prickled, like my entire body was picking up her vibrations.
She hadn’t arrived in time for the actual surprise, but both her parents were there and had assured me she’d just gone home to change after work and was not far behind. It didn’t even faze me that they acted like she and I were still a thing since my parents were the same exact way.
“Look who’s here!” That was my dad. When I turned, I saw her walking in wearing a short parka and jeans so tight, I had to swallow hard to keep my tongue in my mouth.
It was like my field of vision honed in on her and nothing else.
She smiled wide at my dad as she unzipped her jacked to reveal a tight bloodred sweater.
She had her big gold hoops in her ears and tall brown boots on.
Her hair was pulled back tight in a fluffy long ponytail that bopped along as she walked.
She looked just like the girl I’d fallen hard for at sixteen and who had been my first everything.
I wondered if we’d ever be able to be around each other without me feeling like she was the only person in the room.
Even when I could barely stand to be around her, I could never keep my attention off Priscilla for long.
She stopped to give a hug to her parents, who I knew were staying with her, and then started looking around for someone, I assumed my father.
“Rafa! Happy Birthday!” My father engulfed her in a hug as he winked at me over her shoulder. When he pulled back, he was grinning. “Querida, so glad you could make it.”
“You arrived just in time,” my father said approvingly, with an arm around her shoulder, and a finger pointed in my direction. “This one’s arguing with me again about the Yankees bullpen.”
She laughed and shook her head at me. “You starting arguments with the man on his birthday, Juan Pablo?” She turned to where I was standing next to one of my sisters and winked.
It was sad that I felt my face heat just from her saying my name, but by this point we were all under her spell.
She looked down and pointed at my father’s shoes with a big smile on her face.
“Are those Gucci loafers? Are you letting J take you shopping?”
That got a laugh from Patrice and Easton, who had come to New York for the weekend so they could be at the party.
My dad beamed as he gave her another hug. “You know I would never let that boy convince me to spend so much money on shoes. This was my birthday present.”
Pris grinned at me as my dad rolled his eyes, then pulled something out of the shopping bag she had in one of her hands. “This is for you.”
It was a black fitted, with Uptown embroidered in white. When my dad saw it, he literally beamed and immediately put it on.
“Damn, Papi, that’s tight,” I said, a little jealous.
“I love it. Thanks, m’ija.” Something straight up squeezed my insides whenever I heard my dad call Pris m’ija. She, of course, waved him off, like getting him a perfect gift was no big deal. Soon my dad was launching on the one thing he never ever forgot to ask her.
“How’s it going, detective. Have the good people of the 34th precinct wised up and made you lieutenant yet?”
Her smile fell for a second at the mention of her job, but she regrouped fast. “Not yet. But I’m giving them plenty of reasons to.
” There was a hollowness there that I would’ve noticed even if she hadn’t clued me in about how things were going.
My father didn’t miss it either, his face getting serious at her answer.
She pulled back from him without a word and came over to kiss me on the cheek. I refrained from putting my hands on her, unsure that I’d be able to pull apart if I did.
“Pris. How’s you?” She kissed my cheek and then ran a thumb over the spot I presumed some lipstick had rubbed off, while I tried my best not to shiver, or worse, growl like a caveman.
“I’m good. Sorry I didn’t make it for the surprise,” she said, looking regretful. “Things ran late.” Her face looked somber at whatever she was remembering.
I waved a hand as she moved to kiss my sister Sylvia on the cheek.
“I know how it is. You’re looking fresh.
I like that sweater.” I tried hard not to smack my lips as I ran my eyes over her without pausing on the deep plunge of her neckline for too long.
I did run my tongue over my bottom lip, because I wasn’t made of stone.
My sister snorted from somewhere on my left as I tried to focus on anything that wasn’t Priscilla’s cleavage or her neck or mouth.
I found a spot where her baby hairs were curling up and tried to remember what the hell I’d been saying.
But before I could, she lifted the same bag she’d pulled the hat from and handed it to me.
I took it, a bit surprised, and before I had a chance to ask who it was for, she said in a surprisingly shy voice. “My friend Bri’s man is an artist and does all these dope designs on hats and sweatshirts.” She lifted a shoulder and gave me a helpless smile. “I thought you’d like this one.”
“Oh?” She rolled her eyes at my response and moved around to hang her jacket on one of the pegs on the wall behind me.
I opened the bag and peeked in like she’d told me it had a rattlesnake in it. I wasn’t sure what to think, because this gesture was very far removed from the ghosting and icing out that I’d been getting from her. This was sweet, and this was not what we’d been doing. Not for a long time.
Sylvia shoved my shoulder softly as I stood there like a statue. “I want to see it.”
“Fine, chill, Syl.” The sweater I pulled out was black like my dad’s hat, but the words at the center were El Bronx.
“That’s certainly on brand for you.” My sister sounded impressed, which wasn’t exactly new. She, like the rest of my family, caped for Priscilla 24/7.
Priscilla was still squirming, but I bent down to kiss her on the cheek. “I love it.”
Her neck was red and she looked pleased with herself.
But I also knew pushing her on why she bought me a present would get me nowhere.
Not in front of all these people. “I thought you’d like it.
” There was a whole lot happening between the shy looks she was giving me and the roiling in my gut that told me something was shifting between us.
But in the end, I took her lead and gave her a nod, another thank you, and let it go for a time when we didn’t have all of our family and friends watching.
So I moved to the easier and familiar. “You want to go get some food and drink? Ma made the lasagna and there’s mofongo, too.”
She grinned at that. “I love the Italian slash Boricua flavors of your family’s parties. Is your mom still using sofrito for the lasagna meat?”
I barked out a laugh and looked at my grandpa, who was shoveling in some tostones. “Much to Nonno’s horror.”
I didn’t want to scare her off by making a thing out of her bringing me a gift, but I was feeling too warm inside to not at least say a proper thank you.
Or at least a proper thank you for us. I bumped her shoulder as she scooped a piece of lasagna from one of the pans on the buffet table. “I really do love my sweater.”
She focused a little harder than necessary on getting some salad and maduros on her plate before lifting up her eyes at me.
Our gazes locked and held for a moment, before she said anything in response.
I expected her to say something flippant, like “don’t let it go to your head.
” From the way her chest puffed up and then slowly deflated, I guessed I wasn’t too far off.
But as she considered our surroundings and then made her way to two empty chairs in a hidden corner, I let her come up with a way to respond.
Once we were seated, she stabbed a piece of the yellow and brown sweet plantains on her plate and took a bite. She closed her eyes as she chewed, and when she swallowed, she finally looked at me. “I saw it and thought you’d like it, so I got it.”
Period.
I knew enough to not push for more or try to get any ulterior motives out of her.
“I’m glad you made it tonight.”
She took a couple more bites of food before answering. “No matter where things are with us, Rafa’s family.”
I wanted to tell her to enlighten me as to where exactly things were with us. Because I had no idea. We’d gone from barely speaking to a hot as fuck night at the beach to me getting ghosted, and now she was here…with gifts.
My head was spinning a little bit, but I was going to put a positive spin on this thing and keep the lines of communication open.
If we were talking, then at least there was a chance for something—what, I didn’t know anymore.
But I could not deny sitting here with her, eating a plate of food my mom and I cooked, surrounded by the people we’d known our whole lives, felt pretty perfect.
What she said next had me almost pumping my fist in the air. “Were you serious about my podcast? Do you really think the workshop could work?”
I schooled my expression when I noticed this was far from a casual question. Priscilla was putting her heart out right now. “When have I ever lied to you Priscilla Gutierrez?”
She nodded and picked at her food. My hands itched to lift her chin up. Kiss that sadness away. “Is the offer for a space to do my workshop still open, then?”
“It’s yours whenever you need it.” I bumped her shoulder again, then stabbed a piece of maduro from her plate and popped it into my mouth before she could protest, which, of course, she did anyway. “Hey, get your own plate.” I laughed, as she turned so that the plate was out of my reach.
She pinched my arm softly and looked down at her plate, letting me only catch a glimpse of her smile. “I think I may take you up on it, then.”
I wanted to ask what had brought this on. If she’d been planning to call. If she’d been thinking about what happened between us after the wedding constantly, like I had. I realized then that I wasn’t sure I knew what Priscilla needed like I used to.
I didn’t know what to do with that. I wasn’t even sure if there was anything I could do.
We’d changed, both of us, and more than anything, I wanted to tell her that every version of myself, the worst and the best one, still thought she was the most amazing person in my life.
That with the wealth of people who loved me, she was still the one I yearned for.
I didn’t tell her though. I was too scared of what she’d say to that confession.
“Is work going all right?”
The lightness in her eyes dimmed a little bit and I wanted to kick myself, but after a moment—like she always did—she regrouped.
“It’s going. We have some tough cases right now.
” She frowned at whatever she was remembering, but after a moment, she shook herself and looked up at me with a smile.
“I’ve been meaning to call you, but work has been hectic since I got home from the wedding.
” She was almost whispering and I kept having to come closer until our heads were almost touching. The plate of food on her lap forgotten.
“Oh.” It was the best I could come up with as my head buzzed, wondering what it was she wanted to tell me.
I’d been swimming in what-ifs ever since she’d walked out on me that night.
Wondering if I should’ve told her how I felt.
Wondering if, like me, she hadn’t stopped thinking about how good we were together, in every way.
My heart pounded at the possibilities. “I just wanted to say—”
And because every single one of our dearest and nearest was a gigantic pain in the ass, at that very moment, Patrice and Easton decided to come and chat.
“Hey, babe, we haven’t had a chance to talk yet.” Easton sat down next to Pris and gave me an apologetic look. I wanted to get up and pull her by the hand to a quiet place. Instead, I got up to give P dap.
“What’s up man?” I said, trying very hard not to growl at him.
He looked down at his man and Pris, who were already engaged in deep conversation and raised an eyebrow in question. I guess the fact that we’d been sitting together in seemingly friendly conversation was noteworthy.
I shook my head and tried to convey as much as I could that I didn’t want to get into it.
Not that Patrice would push. Since he’d gotten more serious with Easton, my closed-off and too-quiet friend had changed a lot, but he hadn’t changed so much he would willingly walk into a conversation about feelings.
I rolled my shoulders and shook my head, this conversation was over, but she’d opened a door with the workshops and I was making sure she knew it would never be closed to her.