Chapter Twelve
Alma paced around her parents’ house and looked out the window at the gorgeous landscape that her father had cultivated with love.
The roses bloomed in pale shades of pastels, a lime tree was ripe with luscious fruit, butterflies flitted on the milkweed, and a hummingbird and a sparrow waded in the brightly colored Talavera birdbath he had purchased and installed for Mamá. A perfectly glorious spring day.
It could’ve been just a lovely family dinner at home, but tonight would be awkward at best and disastrous at worst. Well, maybe not.
At least this time Carlos had told her that he had invited Jaime to dinner.
Carlos explained that he wasn’t trying to set them up, just that he was trying to show Jaime around the Canal so he would hopefully become a long-term donor to the community.
Alma understood his rationale and accepted it.
But that didn’t make this entire scenario any less strange.
And unfortunately for Alma, there was no chance that Jaime would flake.
He honored his commitments, and she had always known him to be a man of his word.
As heart-wrenching as it was, she almost understood why he had dumped her many moons ago.
They had been committed to each other when they were mere teens, and he wasn’t ready to settle down.
He could’ve strung her along long-distance for a while to keep her on call and cheat like some other men would do.
But Jaime would never cheat on her after what he had gone through with his parents.
Alma couldn’t believe that he had agreed to come to her parents’ house not once but twice, nor could she believe they had asked him to come.
He’d never even wanted to spend the night at her parents’ house when they were actually dating—not that she could blame him.
But his reasons back then were because he felt uncomfortable staying in their home knowing he was sleeping with their daughter.
Alma was grateful for how wonderful and progressive her parents were, despite their traditional backgrounds.
Though they were immigrants who were both born and raised in Mexico, they weren’t particularly old-fashioned like many of their friends were.
They had no problem with her dating and had never made her feel any shame for spending the night with Jaime.
In fact, she had been quite open and honest with her mother about her entire relationship with him.
It helped that her parents had a loving and equal relationship.
Both of them worked outside the home and they shared the domestic chores around the house, which Alma thought was pretty evolved, considering how they both had grown up.
She was blessed to have such a warm, close family, including her overprotective brother, Carlos, though she still couldn’t figure out why he was acting so chummy with Jaime.
It could just be because he wanted help with his festival, but Carlos was a mystery.
He was fiercely private about everything in his life.
Alma extracted herself from the living room because having Jaime catch her staring out the window and waiting for his arrival would definitely not be cute.
She walked into the kitchen. The scent of cumin wafted through the air, mixing with the sweet citrus that Mamá had plucked from the backyard trees.
Mamá’s apron was decorated with splashes of salsa, and Papá diced onions on the chopping board.
When he finished, he washed his hands and then patted Mamá’s bottom.
Mamá tapped him with her wooden spoon. Alma’s eyes teared up, and it wasn’t from the onions.
How had she and Carlos been so lucky to be raised in a household full of love and equality?
And as much as she had refused to let herself think about dating since she had been so focused on her business, she had to admit that she wanted what her parents had.
Ay. That was it!
It hit her like a chancla straight to her head. Were her parents plotting to get her back together with Jaime? Sure, Carlos wanted and needed his help for the Canal, but did her parents have an ulterior motive?
“Mamá? Why exactly did you ask Carlos to invite Jaime to dinner?”
Her father answered instead. “He’s like family.
It’s not just about you—I once thought he would be my son.
And he was also Carlos’s friend. He’s helping your brother with this festival of his to raise money for his team.
The least we could do is open our home to him and serve him a home-cooked meal.
The poor boy is probably staying in a cold hotel. ”
Alma let out a chuckle. “He’s not staying in a hotel—he’s staying with Santi, who just happens to be filthy rich and lives in an oceanfront mansion in Bolinas. Oh, the horror! How could Jaime ever slum it like that?”
Mamá’s eyes narrowed into a glare. “Jaime never had a close family like we have. Home-cooked meals, love, warmth. Money isn’t everything.”
Alma wasn’t going to press, but she had to know why her parents didn’t even seem to care that Jaime had hurt her so greatly.
She clenched her fist. “So it’s just like old times? Full-on forgiveness? Did you forget how comatose I was after he dumped me?”
Papá placed a warm hand on her shoulder. “Mija, of course not. What Jaime did was hurtful. But you were both so young and still are. Men mature slower than women. We never expected it to last. Especially with him.”
Ah, great. Even her own parents knew he would dump her. “I guess everyone saw the end coming but me.” She didn’t want to discuss this further with her parents. “I’ll go set the table.” She grabbed some plates from the cupboard next to the sink and brought them into the dining room.
Maybe her parents’ odd behavior could simply be explained by the fact that she hadn’t had a serious boyfriend since Jaime, and they wanted her to be happy.
And Alma couldn’t fully discount her parents’ traditional upbringings despite the way they had adapted to American culture.
Maybe they couldn’t fight the notion that Alma, at the tender age of twenty-five, was an old maid. That stuff is deeply ingrained.
Carlos finally ambled in from wherever the hell he’d been. She glared at him. Had he never invited Jaime to the Cinco festival, then this dinner wouldn’t be happening. Yes, yes, for the greater good. But still, it was messed up.
Carlos leaned against the dining table.
“Nice of you to show up. I’m stressing here.”
Carlos laughed. “Relax. I don’t know why you’re so nervous—Jaime is the one who should be anxious.”
“Whatever, Carlos. It’s weird. You know it is. Plus, why does he have to have dinner here? The charity event is bad enough.”
“I think Mamá and Papá just wanted him to feel like they’ve forgiven him.”
Alma rolled her eyes. “It’s not their forgiveness he should seek.”
Carlos grabbed her hand. “I know what he did hurt you. But you are one to talk about inviting him over. Didn’t you agree to teach him about tequila and how to speak proper Spanish in exchange for some help with critics and posts?”
Wow. Good news travels fast. Thanks Jaime. “I did. But that’s different. It’s between us. I don’t want my entire family involved in my business.”
Carlos burst out laughing. “You realize that you are Mexican, right? You need to get over that privacy fantasy real quick.”
He had a point. “Fine. You’re right. It’s just, he broke me.”
Carlos hugged his little sister. “I’m sorry. But you can live in the past or try to see him as the man he is now.”
Was her entire family conspiring to get them back together? “I don’t want to get back together with him. I can never trust that he won’t break my heart.”
“It’s not about getting back together with Jaime.
It’s about forgiveness and healing. So you can move on—with someone—someday.
That’s the thing—you haven’t moved on. You still love him.
If you didn’t, you would’ve found someone new.
You’re stunning and smart and successful.
How many dates have you been on since he left? ”
A lump grew in her throat. “I plead the Fifth.”
“Right. So all we’re trying to get you to do is to be open. We all see that whatever is going on with you two, the final chapter hasn’t been written. Even if he is just here in town so you can finally have closure on the past and move on, then that will be worth it.”
Alma exhaled. Carlos was right. Maybe the reason Jaime had appeared in her life wasn’t an opportunity to get back together with him, but so she could finally forgive him and be able to move on.
Because she really needed to. She yearned to be held, to be kissed. She had closed that part off in herself for so long. But now, seeing him had stirred up all sorts of feelings and desires.
The doorbell rang. Alma’s heart constricted.
Let the evening begin.
Alma slowly walked toward the door; her breathing quickened. Why was she so nervous? She had just seen him yesterday.
She opened the door and Jaime stood there holding two bouquets of flowers—zinnias in vibrant shades of violet, yellow, orange, and white. But Alma’s gaze quickly left the blossoms and locked with Jaime’s.
It was almost like she was seeing him for the first time.
Laugh lines bracketed eyes full of sunshine. His jawline, so strong, so pronounced, was the perfect underscore for the fullness of his lips. His shirt stretched against broad shoulders. Had he always been this handsome?
That answer was yes.
Maybe this was a turning point.
But Alma could never forget the past. Forgive, she could try. But her harrowing recovery made moving forward with Jaime an unlikely possibility.
His eyes danced up and down her body, and he grinned. “Hi. You look beautiful.” He pecked her on the cheek.
What surprised Alma most was that even though they had been apart for so many years, the chemistry between them was still electric.
Mamá emerged from the kitchen, trailed by her husband and son.