Chapter Seventeen
Alex: I’m about to hop on the freeway.
Sofia: Be careful. We’ll see you soon!
Alex: I’m looking forward to it.
“Will you sit down? You’re making me nervous.”
I shot the full force of my glare at Javi, who had regrettably become immune to its power years ago. “You could always go help Mamí make the masa for the pasteles.”
“Olivia is already helping her, and I’d just be in the way,” he replied, flipping a page in the medical journal he was reading.
“You know,” I began, stopping my pacing and crossing my arms over my chest, “you never struck me as the kind of machismo asshole to let the women in his life do all the cooking and cleaning while you sit back and drink a beer.”
Javi sighed and closed the journal, resting it on the side table.
“First, I’m not drinking a beer. It’s too early for one.
But you could make us some Bloody Marys.
” When I scowled, he waved a hand. “Secondly, I do the majority of the cooking and grocery shopping for Liv and me. And lastly, Olivia asked to hang out with Mom in private.”
I went still. “Why? Is everything okay?”
Wild thoughts of what could be wrong with my sister-in-law knotted into a lump in my throat. We didn’t get to see each other very often, but I adored Olivia and wanted only the best things for her.
“Liv is fine. Better than fine.” Javi glanced toward the kitchen, where I could hear soft murmurings. “She wanted to speak to Mamí privately because she’s expecting.”
“Oh.” All the air in my body rushed out on a gasp. And to my horror, tears filled my eyes. “That’s the most wonderful news in the world.”
The most incandescent smile lit my brother’s face. “Isn’t it? She’s exactly twelve weeks and finally getting over the morning sickness.”
Wow, Olivia was pregnant. And suddenly a new thought occurred to me. “Holy cow, Javi, you’re going to be a dad,” I cried, promptly slapping a hand to cover my mouth. I darted my gaze to the kitchen, relieved to hear Mamí’s and Olivia’s conversation continued. “Lo siento.”
Javi snorted. “And you’re going to be a tití. That means you’re going to have to come visit more often.”
I planted a hand on my hip. “I mean, you didn’t have to go and have a baby to get me to visit.”
“God, you’re a jerk.” Javi rose to his feet and pulled me into a hug. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too.” I wrapped my arms around his waist and squeezed tight. “And I will come to visit every chance I get—”
The rest of my statement was lost when I spied movement near the courtyard gate. Craning my neck to peer out the window, I spied a familiar dark head.
Breaking from Javi’s embrace and ignoring his huff of indignation, I all but sprinted to the front door, throwing it wide as I rushed across the courtyard. Alex was standing just off the walkway, two large brown paper bags in his hands.
“Alex, you made it,” I called as I held open the gate for him to walk through. “How was the drive?”
“Merry Christmas,” he said easily, leaning forward to buss my cheek.
It had become part of his routine for greeting me, yet it still threw my heart out of rhythm.
“There was a fair bit of traffic on the road, but I put on a podcast and it wasn’t too bad.
” Alex’s gaze shifted to a point over my shoulder, and although his expression didn’t change, he seemed to stiffen. “Will you introduce me to your friend?”
“My friend?” I glanced back and saw Javi standing just outside the front door, his hands in his pockets. “That’s my brother.”
“Oh,” Alex murmured, following after me until I stopped in front of Javi.
After introducing the two men, I watched as they sized each other up, their handshakes firm.
Alex and my brother were only a year or so apart and were of a similar height and build.
Alex was an inch or two taller and broader in the chest and shoulders, his manner friendly and open.
Javi, however, had always been more reserved around new people, and with his lithe frame and shrewd dark eyes, my brother projected sophistication.
Which I found particularly hilarious because Javi could bullshit like the best of us.
Until that moment, it hadn’t even occurred to me that Alex and my brother might not get along.
The thought settled like a stone in my gut.
“You guys want to come inside?” Javi asked, gesturing to the door with a hook of his thumb. “Olivia, my wife, is in the kitchen with our mom prepping for the pasteles assembly. Have you made pasteles before?”
Alex shook his head. “I haven’t.”
“That’s about to change.” Javi smirked. “Mamí said you wanted to learn some Puerto Rican customs, and you’re about to.”
Without another word, Javi disappeared inside, and Alex and I watched him go. After a moment, Alex glanced at me. “So he’s pretty intense.”
“Eh, that’s just his doctor persona.” I lifted a shoulder. “I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve had to tell him to stop treating me like one of his interns.”
“Ah, that makes sense.” Alex’s lips twisted. “So you’re saying I shouldn’t let him boss me around?”
“Precisely,” I said, beaming at him.
Alex studied me, his velvet eyes moving over my face. “It’s really good to see you.”
Nope! I couldn’t allow myself to be taken in by his earnest looks and sweet words. He was just being friendly, and I couldn’t keep reading deeper meaning into his words.
Except he had wanted to kiss you.
“You, too,” I said, much sharper than I intended. I barely contained a wince. “Nochebuena is my favorite night of the year, and I’m glad you’re here to spend it with us.”
I held my breath as I slipped past him inside, not wanting to torture myself with his crisp, clean scent. At the entry to the kitchen, I paused. There stood my parents with Olivia and Javi, hands clasped and tears in their eyes.
“Did you hear the news?” Mamí asked, turning to me while she swiped tears from her cheeks. “We’re going to have a new member of the family to love.”
Alex’s sharp inhalation didn’t stop me from stepping forward to wrap my arms around my mother and squeeze her tight. Then I turned to Olivia, who was tucked under Javi’s arm, her face red and splotchy, but joy shining in her eyes.
Grasping her hands, I said, “Congratulations, mama-to-be. That baby is so lucky to have you as a mother.” I shot my brother an exasperated look. “And I guess they’re lucky to have him, too.”
That earned me a shove…but also a megawatt smile.
For several minutes, we chatted about the pregnancy, peppering Olivia with questions about how she was feeling and if they planned to learn the baby’s gender.
After I declared that Mamí and I would fly to Chicago to host a baby shower for her and her friends, Mamí’s gaze shifted to a spot behind me.
“?Wepa! Alex, you’re here! Lo siento, no queremos ignorate.” My mother stepped around me to Alex, who lingered near the kitchen table. She bussed his cheeks in greeting. “We received the best Christmas present this morning, so we’re all a tad distracted.”
“The very best present. Congratulations, abuela,” Alex murmured, patting her hand. He looked toward our little group and waved awkwardly. “Um, hi. I’m Alex, and congratulations.”
Laughter filled the kitchen, and soon introductions had been made and Alex had been swept away by my father and Javi to share a celebration cigar on the back patio. As I settled at the kitchen table to assist with pasteles construction, Olivia nudged me in the side with her elbow.
“Girl, why didn’t you tell me Alex was so…” She paused, her gaze bouncing around the kitchen.
“Handsome,” Mamí chimed in from her place at the stove where she was stirring the pork. “That is a beautiful man.”
“He’s a nice guy, too,” I said, hoping neither woman noticed the flush creeping up my neck. “Caitlin is very lucky.”
Olivia hummed her agreement.
Eventually the men returned, and Alex pulled out the chair next to me at the table, the faintest whiff of tobacco clinging to him.
“You ready to put in a shift on the pastel assembly line?” I asked, bumping my shoulder into his.
Alex’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline as he surveyed the spread of ingredients before him. “You’re going to have to show me what to do.”
“I got you.” Pushing back my chair, I rose to my feet and walked to the opposite side of the table.
With all the flair of a game-show beauty, I pointed to each item on the table.
“This stack of parchment paper is to wrap the pasteles, and this butcher string holds them together. These plantain leaves have been washed and cut to size. Now, this is the masa my mother and Olivia prepared earlier today. It contains green plantains, malanga, and pumpkin. Sometimes she adds batata, if the grocery store has it. We’ll add a dollop of the masa to the center of a plantain leaf and then add a spoonful of pork”—I gestured to the bowl filled with richly seasoned diced pork shoulder—“and an olive, if you want. Then you fold the leaf, wrap it in a piece of parchment paper, and tie it with string. Make sense?”
“Umm…” Alex rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “Maybe I can watch you assemble a few before I try.”
“Cop-out,” I replied, fighting back a smile. Taking my seat, I grabbed a parchment square and centered a plantain leaf on top of it, meeting his gaze. “Now watch what I do so you can try next time.”
Alex mumbled something under his breath I couldn’t quite catch, but it sounded like “One of my favorite things.” That couldn’t be right, though.
He sat by my side as I gave step-by-step instructions for how to construct a pastel, and when Javi offered what he deemed “expert tips” as he stopped at the table to pilfer some choice pieces of pork, Alex chuckled but returned his attention to me.
There was something so heady about being the sole focus of Alex Castillo’s attention.
Reaching for a slip of parchment paper and a plantain leaf, I set them on the table in front of Alex. “Now it’s your turn. You got this.”