Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Tess
I’ve only been to the Ortizes’ house a handful of times, but as I crane my neck to peer up at the teaberry-pink siding through my window, the memories are as clear as day. I see my dad and Alex on an expansive back patio, decorated with tiki torches and several large lounge chairs, perfect for entertaining a crowd. The smell of freshly charred shrimp and bell peppers wafts off the grill. Mom and Jenna are enjoying tequila sunrises at the kitchen island, casting cursory glances my way while I work to entertain a toddling Mara.
Our tires rasp over the sand-covered driveway. Then we’re opening our doors and stepping into an evening that’s thick with static. My hair grows wilder by the second. A storm is forming in the distance, an ominous darkness on the horizon that could be mistaken for nighttime if you weren’t observant enough to note its purple hue. We’ll get drenched in the next hour or so.
Kit strides around the front of his rental car, meeting me before I’ve even had a chance to shut my door. He does it for me, then leaves his hand braced on the roof of the car. His gaze travels the length of me, taking in a sundress whose color reminds me of the tall grass that grows wild on the dunes. Bright white cuts through the gray haze of evening as he draws his teeth along his bottom lip. “You look beautiful, Tess.”
“Not so bad yourself,” I say, trying to force nonchalance that I don’t feel. The truth is, my knees have gone weak at the sight of him. With his nearly black hair tousled by the wind and his button-down open just enough to reveal a smattering of dark chest hair, my mouth is practically watering. How I ever tried to convince myself I could resist him is beyond me. I was doomed from the start.
He pushes off the car to propel himself into my orbit, looping an arm around my waist and pulling me flush against his chest. Our heartbeats pound in tandem. His eyes glint as he smiles down at me. “Sure you want this dinner on your list? If we run now, we could probably revisit goal number five.”
A smirk twists my lips. “I think we’ve thoroughly investigated it.”
“And the verdict?”
“Best I ever had,” I say, enunciating each word succinctly. “Though I’ve definitely decided that it has nothing to do with your penis.”
More to do with the fact that I’m falling for him faster than I can reason myself out of it, but I’m not going to tell him that. Not when our separation looms ever closer, threatening as that not-so-distant storm. So I tell him, and then what? I walk away like none of this ever happened? Like my life hasn’t changed irrevocably, and all due to what should have been an inconsequential summer fling?
He sighs heavily. A wash of minty breath flows from his lips onto mine, pulling me back to the present, where his proximity alone is enough to flood my cheeks with warmth. That and his cheeky grin. “It was the double-jointed thumb, wasn’t it?”
I cough up a laugh. As I move to swat his chest, he captures my wrist and instead folds my hand in his and presses it to his sternum, where the resounding thud of his heart vibrates my palm. Then he leans forward and covers my lips with his. He takes his time with the kiss, like we’re the only two people in the world. And for a moment I’m nearly convinced we are.
“Kit! Tess!”
We break apart like waves. Alex leans over the porch railing above us, a bright bulb behind him rendering his features unreadable. The house, like all others this close to the water, is on stilts. The tall wooden beams keep the home safe from rising flood waters in the event of a hurricane. I can just make out Alex’s white linen shirt billowing in the strong breeze. A nearby flag whips and snaps against its pole, piercing the evening with its hollow clanging.
“Hey, Alex!” I call out, hoping he can’t hear just how breathless I sound.
Under the cover of dusk, Kit slips his hand from my lower back to my ass and squeezes. Hard enough that I’m reminded of the print he left in that exact place after our early morning balcony session earlier today.
“Later, then,” is all he says. But I feel it like the promise it is, seeping all the way down to my bones.
He releases me and makes quick work of the few feet between us and the stairs. It takes me a moment to kick into gear, but finally I do, and I’m flying past him, taking the steps two at a time.
Alex meets me at the top of the staircase. He holds out a hand and, once I’ve taken it, uses it to pull me into a hug. “So glad you got here before the storm!”
I pull back, cupping his biceps and grinning at him. “Hope you built a cover over that back patio since I was last here. Otherwise your second shower of the day will be happening in T-minus thirty minutes.”
“Ah, you assume there was a first shower.”
“Gross,” I say, wrinkling my nose. But I’m laughing, and so is he. His dark eyes narrow at a point over my shoulder, likely that foreboding cloud. From the way he clicks his tongue and nods, I can see he agrees with my assessment. Still, he shrugs as his gaze meets mine once more, as if to say, What can you do?
Alex is relaxed here in a way he never is at work. Free to enjoy himself without trying to keep the world afloat around him. The man in front of me is wearing cuffed chinos and a Cuban-style linen shirt that my dad would appreciate. He appears years younger than the version I see most often, who spends his days running a luxury resort that he and his wife built from scratch.
He tosses a playful wink and then releases me to embrace Kit. “Nice to see you, Mr. Llewellyn. Jenna tells me this was all your idea.”
Kit pinches my side gently. Enough to provoke the colony of butterflies in my stomach. “Please, call me Kit. And your wife is being too generous. I barely got a word out before she had the whole menu planned.”
“That’s my girl.” Pride softens Alex’s features. “Come, let’s get inside. How many years has it been, mija? ”
“Too many.” I allow myself to be guided to the front door, with Alex at my side and Kit bringing up the rear. Once inside, I kick off my shoes at a familiar Turkish-style rug and watch as Kit does the same. The entryway opens right up into a kitchen and dining area, with sliding glass doors that lead to the back patio straight ahead on the far side of the house. A dividing wall splits the level down the middle, with an open archway leading from the dining room into a sunken living space that was filled with an overstuffed couch and enough cozy, hand-crafted throws to drown in the last time I saw it.
Mo sets a beer bottle on the kitchen island with a clink and marches across the small distance between us in his signature quick clip just to sweep me off my newly bare feet for a hug. “ ?Qué hermosa eres! ”
“ Gracias, Mo.” I kiss his cheek and draw in his familiar tobacco scent.
“Don’t mistake my lack of rushing you at the door for me not loving you as much!” Jenna calls from her place at the stove. She winks at me as I step fully into view, pointing a finger that she drags over my entire person while whistling. “Love this dress. Though if I looked as good as you, I swear I’d never wear any clothes.”
“Ma!” Mara cries. She’s standing at the counter, stirring a bowl of what looks to be coleslaw. Her hair is pinned at either temple, reminding me of the way she’d wear it when she was younger. Disgust curdles her expression.
“Oh, pfft.” Jenna waves a hand dismissively at her daughter. “You came out of this body, thank you so much. And I wasn’t wearing clothes at the time, believe you me.”
Mara rolls her eyes. Mo and Alex chuckle. Kit accepts the beer Alex offers with an easygoing smile of his own. And at the center of it all is me. For a moment I’m so focused on taking a mental snapshot of this feeling, of these people, that Jenna’s words don’t quite register.
“Did you hear me? I said that I made your favorite.” She lifts a tray of freshly browned griddle cakes. “Pupusas. I got the recipe from Magdalena.”
I shake my head and smile breathlessly. “I haven’t had them in years.” My lungs grow tight in my chest as a wave of gratitude rushes over my belly. It’s the distinct sensation of being loved, and more importantly, of being known. I suddenly wish I had all the time in the world to revel in it.
I can sense that my face has fallen, only because it takes more effort than normal to force my lips back into a grin. Jenna notices, because of course she does. I can tell because her own smile droops at the corners, the wrinkles there deepening with the fall.
“What’s a pupusa?” Kit sidles up to me and wraps an arm around my shoulders. I sink into his warmth, and when he presses a kiss to my temple, a ripple of surprise flutters through the room.
Jenna is the first to recover, giving me a look that says, We’ll discuss this later, before audibly replying, “Think of a flatbread stuffed with different things like cheese or beans. It’s an El Salvadoran thing, or Honduran, depending on who you ask.” Jenna shrugs. “Since Magda is from El Salvador, that’s what we’re going with tonight.”
I hip check him. “They’re delicious. You’ll love them.”
He rubs his stomach with the hand not holding me. “There are very few foods I’ve met that I didn’t like.”
Mara finishes what I now realize is curtido and starts heading for the table with the bowl. “What’s your least favorite?” She drops the question on a drive-by.
A shudder runs through Kit. “Mushrooms. Can’t fucking stand them.” He blushes when his words hit his ears, and his gaze cuts right to Jenna. “So sorry, ma’am,” he utters quickly, drawl thicker in his panic.
“Amen,” Mo inserts. “Slimy bastards.”
At that, the room erupts with laughter, and I feel more than see Kit relax into relief. As Jenna passes him with the tray of pupusas, she rises onto her tiptoes and kisses his cheek, which thoroughly melts him. Mo pulls my chair out for me at a dining table crafted from local driftwood, and he and Mara fight for the seat on my other side. Kit sighs good-naturedly and gives his chair to Mara, moving instead to sit between Alex and Jenna on the opposite corner of the table.
Alex whispers a quick prayer over the food before crossing himself, and then we dig in. There are plates passed, silverware clinking, and a dollop of salsa ends up splattered on Mauricio’s lap. It’s messy and chaotic and beautiful, just like the storm that finally unravels outside.
* * *
Once our bellies are round and tight, Kit and I make quick work of clearing the table and tag teaming the dishes. Halfway through, he doubles over with a groan. “Why did you let me have that fifth pupusa?”
“Overeating pupusas is a canon event,” I say, shrugging, before depositing a rinsed plate in the dishwasher. “I couldn’t interfere.”
He grumbles a response that I can’t make out. When all is done and put away, he stumbles toward the living room like a woman in the eleventh hour of pregnancy, sparing a glance over his shoulder to make sure I’m watching. I shake my head and laugh as he calls, “You did this to me!”
Where the kitchen and dining space is painted a pale yellow and decorated only with the occasional photograph, their living room is a menagerie of color. I stand in the archway with my head tilted upward, taking in the vaulted ceilings and the windows of pure black night, interrupted only by the occasional burst of lightning. The rain has subsided for now, but thunder still grumbles its promise that the storm isn’t over yet.
On the opposite wall, various artworks Jenna and Alex have collected over the years from their travels leave very little of the seafoam green wall exposed. Scenes of Parisian streets and Costa Rican rainforests grapple for attention. In the end I let my eyes go hazy, which creates a blurry abstract of the whole world.
Mo and Alex are seated in either of two oversize recliners bracketing the same plush couch I remember from years ago. Kit has made himself at home there and is animatedly telling Mara about his own travels during his time in the military. Turns out, he was in Germany for a time, and that’s one of the stops she’s planned for during her gap year. I lean against the threshold, crossing my arms over my chest as I watch him gesticulate, eyes bright and mouth never straying from a half smile.
“He sure is handsome, Tess.”
I glance over my shoulder. Jenna sidles up to me, her bare feet sticking slightly to the tile floor with each small step. She leans against the opposite side of the threshold, our bodies brushing from shoulder to elbow to hip, and smiles at the scene before us.
“He’s aware,” I deadpan. But I can’t help the way the corner of my mouth twitches.
Her laugh is more of a sigh. I turn to study her and find she’s already looking at me. In a lowered voice, she says, “You want to talk about what you plan to do next?”
My brow furrows, even as my heart skips a beat. “What do you mean?”
She shrugs. “You know, since you aren’t planning on coming back here.”
My gaze darts to Mo, who’s laughing hysterically at some story Kit is telling.
“He didn’t tell me anything.” Her hand flattens over her heart. “Though ouch, you told Mo and not me?”
I grimace. “It wasn’t a planned thing. He caught me at a vulnerable moment.”
“Ah, I see. I can accept that.”
“If Mo didn’t say anything, how did you know?”
When our gazes meet again, there’s a sad crinkle to the edges of her dark brown eyes. Not pity, exactly. More like regret.
“You’ve seemed different this year. And not just because you brought along a guest for the first time since your grandparents passed.” She nods toward Kit, who is now on his feet, giving Mara a self-defense lesson from the looks of it. Or perhaps he just likes to be kicked in the shins. “I don’t know if you’ve realized, but every year you grow more and more subdued. Alex and I were getting very concerned, actually. It was like we could see the light inside you dying out.”
Now it’s my turn to say ouch.
Her hand curls around mine, soft from the cocoa butter lotion she applies religiously. “I don’t mean that to hurt you, Tess. I only say it because lately I’ve been catching more and more glimpses of the old you, in the moments where you forget to be sad.” She tilts her head, catching the fluorescent light from the kitchen on the sharp curve of her delicate jaw. “Where he reminds you how to be happy.”
“I’ve been happy,” I say in an attempt to come to my defense, but the words are so hollow it does the opposite. “Or, I haven’t been sad. I’ve been mostly numb, I guess.”
Her lips thin and she nods her head sympathetically. “I’m not sure that’s better.”
My throat grows dry. I force a painful swallow. “I’m not either.”
“Did you know that I have a baby sister?” Jenna’s looking at Mara with sparkling pride, but there’s a wateriness to it that tells me where this story is going before we’ve even begun the journey. “She was the light of my life. My hero. Most of my friends wanted nothing to do with their little siblings, but I loved Carmen fiercely. We did everything together.
“She died of an undiagnosed heart condition when she was only seventeen. I was away at college. When my mother called, I couldn’t believe her. I’d just seen my sister the day before.” A tear slips down her cheek, but it’s caught by a watery smile. “You see, every Friday after class, I’d drive an hour to meet her at this little diner halfway from my hometown to the college I was attending at the time. It was our tradition. A way for us to stay close, back before cell phones and Facetime and all that.
“After she died, I still made that drive every Friday. It confused Alex when we first got together, because he could never take me out on a Friday night. I’d come home exhausted and weepy and shut myself in with a boxed-up order of her usual that’d never get eaten.”
I picture Jenna at Mara’s age, carrying the burden of grief that I know so well. I’m shocked I never noticed it on her shoulders.
“Part of it was habit. Part of it was my silly attempt to keep her here with me for longer. Even though all it really did was remind me she was gone.” She releases my hand to wipe at her cheeks with the ball of her palm. “When Alex and I got serious about starting the resort, I had to make a decision. I knew it was time. That she’d understand.
“And what a gift it has been. This place that I love so deeply. That she’s very much a part of, even if she’s never seen it. It has brought me immense joy, and I’d have none of that if I’d stayed stuck in that old routine, never allowing myself to move forward.”
I open my mouth, not entirely trusting my voice to be there when I reach for it. “That’s beautiful, Jenna.”
I never once questioned where the resort’s name came from. I guess I assumed it was a grandmother’s name, or maybe Jenna’s middle. Perhaps just a place somewhere that Jenna and Alex loved. But Carmen was someone who mattered, whose life ended too soon. And in creating this place, Jenna has allowed her legacy to be more than just the sum of her years. It’s every memory made here, each trip that became tradition. Her legacy is me and my family. Both the one I’ve lost, and the one I’m realizing I have here, with the Ortizes and even Kit, if only for the time being.
None of that would exist without Carmen. And I tell Jenna exactly that. Seeing her, but also seeing my past and all my possible futures, I smile at Jenna. “Thank you for sharing her with me. With us.”
In the quiet that follows my words, I realize that Kit and Mara have given up on sparring. Mo and Alex are snoozing in their chairs. Kit’s gaze drifts to mine, surprise flitting across his expression, like he hadn’t realized I was watching this entire time. His brow furrows, and I quickly shake my head to let him know I don’t need him quite yet, but I’m sure I will soon enough.
He relents, but the tension remains in his shoulders like he’s ready to come for me the moment I call.
“Moving forward doesn’t mean moving on,” Jenna says.
My brow crumples. “What do you mean?”
“They’ll always be with you, just as my sister is with me.” She squeezes my hand one final time, then lets it go. “And wherever you go in this great, big world, just know that my crazy little family is there with you, too.”
I smile, remembering Mo said something similar that night by the pool. It makes that great, big world a lot less terrifying, when I know there are people somewhere in it who love me. Who are rooting for me.
“Did you ever go back?” I ask because I can’t resist. “To that restaurant?”
She brushes a strand of hair from her cheek with the back of her hand and nods. “Yes. Many, many years later. I wanted Xiomara to meet her tia. ” She laughs self-consciously, ducking her chin. “I know that sounds ridiculous, but it felt right at the time.”
Our gazes meet, and I shrug. “Makes perfect sense to me.”
She nods. “I thought it might.”
We say our goodbyes shortly after. By the time Kit shuttles me home, the small part of me that was filled with dread for this one of many lasts has instead been balmed by pupusas and the warmth of my conversation with Jenna. I take Kit’s hand gladly as he guides me toward the entrance to the Carmen, feeling lighter than I have in months.
“Was that everything you hoped it would be?”
The smell of wet asphalt is thick in the air. A layer of humidity coats my skin. Where our palms meet, sweat pools, but neither of us seems to care. I grin up at him. “It was even better. Thank you. I needed that more than I realized, I think.”
The cool lobby AC hits me like a cold front, sending a shiver down my spine as we step inside. Kit points toward the hall that leads to the elevator bay. “Ready for bed?”
I glance in that direction, but my gaze catches on the glowing blue pool on the other side of the wall of windows, and my steps falter. “Could we stop and visit my parents for just a sec?”
He doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t ask questions. Doesn’t even lift a brow at my seemingly absurd request. Kit switches directions on a dime, guiding me to the pool deck, where the handprints await.
I tell them all about our night, and he chimes in with his own side of the story. We chatter till we run out of words to say. And then, we sit still and listen.