Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CLARA
Iwake up to a slight dip in the bed and Alejandra’s arms wrapping tightly around me.
“Morning,” she says as I stir.
“Morning.” I smile lazily.
Alejandra leans in and kisses me, slow and deep. Heat unfurls through me, a low ache blooming in my belly. I smile against her lips, eyes still half-closed.
“What if we played hooky today?” I murmur against her lips.
She pulls back enough to meet my eyes, a slight grin on her lips.
“I wish,” she pouts. “I need to be in the studio all week.”
I groan softly. “That’s a tragedy.”
She laughs, brushing her fingers through my hair. “Tell me about it.”
“Rain check?”
Alejandra tilts my chin up, her eyes soft. “Definitely. As soon as I get a day off, I’m all yours. But right now I need to get ready for work.”
I nod, watching her as she slips out of bed, already missing the warmth of her body next to mine.
I grab my phone from the nightstand and stare at my calendar. Mondays are usually a nightmare, and after how stressful last week was, I’m not entirely ready to dive back in. So I’m calling in sick today.
I send my boss a Slack message letting him know I’ll be out of the office today, and mute the notifications on the app so they can’t reach me. Then I scroll through my contacts and find Diana’s name.
I know Diana doesn’t work on Mondays, and with the wedding so close, there’s always something to do. It’s the perfect excuse to distract myself until Alejandra’s done for the day, while also getting to hang out with Diana, who I don’t see nearly enough.
I press the call button, and she answers on the second ring.
“Hey,” I say, not waiting for her to greet me, “you need help with anything today?”
There’s a pause, then her voice brightens. “You don’t have work today?”
“Nope.”
“If you’re free, yeah, Mom should be heading this way soon to help arrange centerpieces. I haven’t started on any, so I welcome the extra hands.”
“Perfect,” I say, already swinging my legs out of bed. “Be there soon.”
I text Cathia to see if maybe she wants to ride together.
Clara 7:00 a.m.
Hey mama C, do you want a ride to Diana’s? I’m driving there soon
Mama C 7:00 a.m.
that would be great honey. thank you
I’ve called Cathia “Mama C” since before my mom passed. I was around her so much growing up that it almost felt like I was living in a two-mom household. Diana and Alejandra used to call my mom “Mama M,” too. It was like we were our own little family.
I tug on a pair of jeans and an old hoodie, moving slowly, my body protesting at being up so early.
When I enter the kitchen, Alejandra’s already dressed in her favorite black jeans and a thick mustard-yellow sweater, pouring coffee into a to-go mug. She smiles when she sees me.
“Where are you going?” she asks, slipping the lid onto the cup.
“Diana’s. She’s working on wedding stuff. Figured I’d help out.”
“No work today?”
I shake my head.
“Lucky.”
I lean in and kiss her, not a full, deep kiss, but enough to make her regret not calling off work. My fingers graze her waist, pulling her a little closer. “Have a good day at the studio,” I murmur against her mouth.
“You’re the worst,” she breathes, half-laughing, half-lost.
I break our kiss, and she pouts before looping her arms around my neck.
“You know I could still call in sick,” she teases.
I pull her in closer. “Tempting, right?”
She groans, burying her face in my neck for a second before sighing. “You’re evil.”
“Only a little.”
Her alarm chimes from the living room, and I know that means she needs to get out the door. She sighs, resting her forehead against mine.
“I hate that sound,” she mumbles.
I brush my thumb along her jaw. “Yeah, me too.”
“Text me later?”
“Always.”
She gives me one last quick kiss and reluctantly pulls away to grab her things. I find my keys and follow her out the door.
I make it to Mama C’s in about ten minutes, where she’s already waiting for me, seated on her front porch with that easy smile that’s come to feel like home.
“Hey, Clari,” she says, as she hops into the passenger seat and hands me a buttered piece of sourdough before she has even buckled her seatbelt.
“How are you, kid?”
“Good.” I smile, taking the bread. “Busy, but good.”
“No work today?”
“No, I called out sick. I need the extra day away from them.”
She brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “That’s not what I like to hear. What’s going on? I thought you were excited about your promotion.”
I keep my eyes on the road. “Nothing’s wrong.
It’s just that managing the new hires, on top of my increased workload, has been tough.
And my boss has gotten a million times more demanding.
Hopefully, it only feels this overwhelming because we’re in a transition period.
I don’t think I could do this long-term.
I’m only a couple of months into this role, and I already feel burned out. ”
“Well, honey, I’m glad you took the day off and are coming to do some crafts with us. Where’s Alejandra? I thought she might be coming with you.”
“She had to go to her office today.”
Cathia nods. “I see. Well, two out of three on a Monday is a win in my book.”
My lips curl into a smile.
The hour drive goes by quickly. Traffic is light since most people are leaving the island around this time to get to work.
Cathia and I have scattered conversations about Diana’s wedding, Lala’s attempts to rope Cathia into speed dating, which she finds both amusing yet terrifying, and how hilarious she finds it that Lala still hasn’t caught on that Alejandra and I are fake dating.
The comment makes me pause, because technically, we’re dating now—or at least exploring the possibility.
I don’t correct her, though. I don’t know when Alejandra will want to share that with her, and as much as Cathia is like a mother to me, I don’t want to tell her anything without discussing it with Alejandra first.
We pull up to Diana’s house and slip inside. She has this bad habit of never locking the doors, so we walk right in and kick off our wet shoes by the door. Rain started pouring halfway through the drive, and I nearly turned around; it had been that intense.
“Diana?” I shout when I can’t hear her.
“We’re in the kitchen!”
Cathia and I turn the corner and find Diana and Alex at the dining table, eating muffins and sipping coffee. The whole space is a mess of faux flowers spread out in little piles.
“What’s all this?” I ask as I move to kiss them both on the cheek.
“Our project for the day,” Diana says excitedly, looking so much like Alejandra in that moment, it makes me miss her a thousand times more.
Cathia and I sit at the end of the dining table and are immediately put to work.
Diana sets down a little pile of supplies in front of us—jars of paint, bundles of faux flowers in soft blush and cream, spools of ribbon, and wide glass vases.
“Make it look like mine,” she says, gesturing to the example centerpiece she made: an elegant arrangement of blush peonies, baby’s breath, and eucalyptus, the stems painted in a wash of dusty pastels, tied together with a sheer ivory ribbon inside a vase with a beautiful bow wrapped around it.
I stare at it, then back at my scattered materials. “No pressure,” I mutter, and Diana grins.
“We only have to make thirty just like this one.”
“Only thirty?” I laugh.
Diana rolls her eyes playfully.
I knew there would be a lot of centerpieces, but I didn’t realize there would be this many. Diana wants us to make two for every table, one centerpiece per side of the table, to prevent arguments over who gets to take it home.
Alex appears completely confused when Diana insists that “extra centerpieces for family fighting prevention” is a top priority.
“Baby, I promise, it’s a need, not a want. If we don’t have them, my family will never stop talking about it,” Diana says. Cathia and I nod along. Alex gives the tiniest shake of her head but keeps her mouth shut.
In true Latin family fashion, the centerpieces at the wedding aren’t only for decor, they’re treasures. Everyone knows that by the end of the night, someone’s tía is walking out with at least one under her arm like she paid for it herself.
We all start making bows, and I do my best to follow her instructions, but they all wind up lopsided, almost as if they’re wilting. Diana just sighs and quickly redoes them.
“Like this,” she says for the third time, giving me another step-by-step.
I try to mimic her, but somehow my bow still ends up stretched out and sad.
She holds it up, squinting at it. “This one looks like it gave up halfway through.”
I wince. “Well, same.”
“Come on, it’s literally two loops and a knot.”
I lay my head dramatically on the table and groan into the faux flowers.
She snorts. “You are so dramatic.”
Cathia scoots closer, and without a word, she reaches for my hands, guiding them like she and my mom used to when Alejandra and I were kids, back when they’d help us shape messy lumps of clay into tiny bowls during pottery nights.
She guides me through the loops and pulls, and somehow, a perfect bow forms between us.
“There,” she says, looking back at me with a satisfied grin. “See? Not so hard”
“Huh,” I say, genuinely surprised, holding up my first halfway-decent bow.
“Now let’s hope you can do it again.” Diana doesn’t even try to hide her smirk.
I was not able to replicate it, and eventually, Diana takes all my supplies away and sends me into the kitchen to make sandwiches for lunch.
I pull out my phone to text Alejandra, but there’s already a message from her waiting for me.
Alejandra 11:39 a.m.:
how’s it going?
Clara 11:40 a.m.:
Terrible! Diana is torturing me
Alejandra 11:39 a.m.:
uh oh! what happened???
Clara 11:40 a.m.:
She’s making me do bows…
Alejandra 11:39 a.m.:
LOL, i don’t know why she thought you’d be good at that. You’re the least crafty person i know. Send me pictures i could use a laugh.
Clara 11:41 a.m.:
Rude
Clara 11:41 a.m.:
But fair
Alejandra 11:42 a.m.: