Chapter Ten
“Ay, nena, you got sun today,” Mamí crooned, running her thumb over my cheekbone.
I waved away her hand with a scowl. “It’s not that bad. I wore sunblock and a hat.”
Mamí’s dark eyes swept over my face. “No, it’s not that bad, but let me grab some aloe vera from the patio and you can wipe it on this spot here. And this one,” she said, touching a pink mark on my shoulder.
Fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I nodded. “Fine, I’ll use the aloe vera.”
She wouldn’t stop hounding me until I agreed, so it was better not to argue.
I had just returned to my parents’ house, leaving Caitlin and Alex in front of Old Main as they walked back to their hotel.
I was proud of myself for not watching as they ambled away, side by side, because I wasn’t a masochist. But they were due to arrive in the next hour, and I needed to shower, change, and then help my mother with dinner.
Already the house, an adobe pueblo-style home tucked along a tree-lined street several blocks from campus, was redolent with the delicious scents of garlic and spices. When my stomach growled, Mamí scoffed.
“Andale,” she said, nudging me in the center of my back toward the guest room. “Hurry and shower. If you help me cut the aguacate, I’ll set aside some pernil for you to snack on.”
“Deal,” I said without a second’s hesitation.
Thirty-five minutes later, I stepped into the kitchen and immediately got to work on the avocados that were sitting in a bowl on the counter.
Slicing through the thick skin, I smiled when I was greeted with perfectly green flesh.
One never knew what would be waiting for them inside an avocado skin.
The sliding glass door to the back patio opened as I was fanning out avocado slices on a plate.
“There you are. How are you, mi amor?” my father asked, setting down an empty glass on the counter and leaning in to buss my cheeks.
“I’m well, Papí.” I returned his kiss and then ran my thumb through the lipstick mark I left on his weathered face. “Just a little tired from walking around in the heat.”
He snorted. “It’s not even that hot.”
I splayed a palm. “It’s not my fault I have thin blood.”
Papí chuckled, but his dark eyes were serious as he considered me. My father was a few inches taller than my own five foot five inches, and I always thought that made it easier for him to hold my gaze and read all my secrets.
“I thought you would be happier seeing as how Caitlin is here to visit,” he murmured softly.
“I am happy,” I said, frowning.
“Is it because of that young man she’s seeing?” Papí cocked his head to the side. “I know you don’t get to see her very often, so I’m sure it’s a bit annoying to have to share her attention.”
“No, Alex is great.”
My father pursed his lips. “Is that right?”
This conversation was beginning to make me nervous.
While my mother could be direct and sometimes confrontational, my father was much more evenhanded.
But that certainly didn’t mean he wasn’t observant…
and mischievous as hell. I learned long ago not only to be mindful of what I said around him, but also to mind my facial expressions unless I wanted him in my business.
“He’s a nice guy,” I replied, aiming for casual. “I think you’ll like him. He’s Puerto Rican, you know.”
His gray brows rose. “No lo sabía.”
“Well, he is.” I shrugged. “But he hasn’t had much connection to the culture, so I hope he’ll enjoy dinner.”
Papí snorted. “How could he not? Your mother’s cooking is delicious.”
It really was, and when I had been in school, friends used to routinely invite themselves to dinner to partake of whatever culinary masterpiece Carmen Mendoza had created.
“How long has Caitlin been with this boy?” Papí asked, snagging a slice of avocado and taking a bite.
The back of my neck went hot even while I focused my attention on cutting into another avocado. “Several months, I think.”
My father hummed in the back of his throat. “But he lives in Phoenix?”
I nodded. “He works for the Scorpions.”
“Oh, maybe he can get us tickets,” he said, waggling his brows.
“You’re terrible,” I huffed, placing the plate of avocado on my other side so he couldn’t steal any more slices.
A bell pinged, and my father pointed a finger at the front door. “Sounds like they’re here. Do you want to answer the door, or should I?”
“I will,” I said quickly, setting down the knife and wiping my hands on the napkin. “Can you let Mamí know they’ve arrived?”
“Sure.” Papí grabbed another avocado slice as he walked past and popped it into his mouth, smiling at me with his cheeks full.
I shook my head as I watched him walk away and then turned toward the front door.
Smoothing my palms down my linen shorts, I set my jaw.
Alex was just a friend coming to dinner, like my many friends before him.
My parents were charming, welcoming hosts, and he would have a great time.
Just as all my friends before him had. No big deal.
But all my reassurances didn’t ease the sour lump in my throat.
When I opened the door, I tried my best to focus on Caitlin…
although Alex’s tall, broad presence lingered behind her.
She’d changed from the red Chanel dress she’d worn to the humanities event earlier in the day to a pair of designer cropped jeans and a cropped T-shirt that showed off her tanned, flat midsection.
With her blond waves pulled back into a loose ponytail, she looked effortlessly put together. Caitlin Wolf chic.
“Oh my God, Sof, your mother’s bougainvillea is a beast. I remember when she planted it, and now it’s taken over the whole courtyard wall,” she exclaimed, gesturing behind her to the magenta-colored floral expanse.
Smiling, I held the door open and stepped back so she could enter. “Isn’t it beautiful? We routinely use it for family photos. Javi and Olivia took their engagement pictures in front of it.”
Her blue eyes went wide. “That’s a great idea. Do you think your parents would mind if I snapped a few selfies there?”
“Of course not.” I rolled my eyes. “But come inside so you can ask them yourself.”
Her tinkling laugh lingered as she went deeper into the house, and I was left standing at the door with Alex, finally forced to look up and meet his gaze.
He stood on the front step, encased in shadows, the soft glow of the string lights in the courtyard backlighting him.
In a pair of dark wash jeans, a knitted shirt, and a pair of white sneakers, Alex looked like a man comfortable in his own skin.
God, I aspired to have that sort of confidence.
“Sofia,” he said simply, surprising me by bending down to press a quick kiss to my cheek. It was the first time he had ever greeted me in such a way, and my breath stuttered for an embarrassing moment I hope he didn’t notice.
“Alex,” I replied, praying my smile wasn’t dopey and crooked.
He slipped past me without another word, and I closed the door, briefly leaning my forehead against the wood. After several seconds, I turned around and almost jumped out of my skin to find Alex still standing there, seemingly waiting for me.
“Did you need a moment?” he asked softly, his expression indiscernible in the dim lighting of the entryway.
My chuckle was colored with chagrin. “Oh, I’m fine. Just parents, you know?”
“I do know.” Alex swung his head in the direction of distant laughter before he turned back to me. “But I’m looking forward to meeting your parents.”
“You are?” I said, unable to keep the surprise from my voice.
“Of course. You’re great, so I’m sure they’re great, too.”
Several long seconds ticked off the clock as I stood there, staring. God, why did he have to say sweet things like that? Suppressing my attraction to him was hard enough as it was, he didn’t have to—
“Sofia, is everything okay?”
Jerking my head, my gaze collided with my father’s. He stood in the doorway leading into the kitchen, his brow puckered. Alex turned to glance at my father before looking back at me, raising a brow.
“Papí.” I paused to clear my throat. “This is Alex. Alex, this is my dad, Santiago Mendoza.”
The men shook hands, and although my father wore a friendly expression, I could tell he was sizing up Alex. I wondered what Papí thought of him.
“Come meet my Carmen.” Papí put his hand on Alex’s shoulder and directed him toward the kitchen, although my dad was several inches shorter than him.
“Would you like something to drink? We have water, soda, beer, wine, and…” My father dropped his voice and leaned close to the younger man.
“I have some El Dorado 15. It’s nice and smooth. ”
Alex slid his gaze to me, the corner of his mouth turned up. “El Dorado is my favorite.”
“A man with excellent taste.” Papí shook Alex’s shoulder with a chuckle. “Let me get you a glass.”
Expelling a breath, I followed after them.
As I stepped into the kitchen, I found Caitlin sitting on a stool at the island, a glass of rosé on the counter before her.
My mother stood on the opposite side, a platter filled with sweet maduros, savory beef-filled pastelillos, and crispy papa rellenas.
I tried to convince my parents that a full assortment of appetizers was not necessary, especially seeing as how my mother had also made a pernil, arroz con gandules, and corn on the cob.
But Mamí and Papí had been offended by the suggestion, reminding me that it was our duty to introduce guests to the delicious depth of Puerto Rican cooking.
I’m sure the fact that I shared how Alex had been deprived of soul food during his childhood played a part in the feast they had prepared, too.
I slid onto the stool next to Caitlin, and a glass of sauvignon blanc appeared in front of me before I could blink. I smiled my thanks at my mother.
“To having my girl and her wonderful friend under this roof again.” Mamí’s amber eyes moved between Caitlin and me as she held up her own wineglass. “It’s been too long.”
“It really has been,” Caitlin said, a grin brightening her face.