Chapter 21
September 13, 2024
“Are you ready for today?” Milo asks when he steps out of his bed and pulls his T-shirt over his head.
“What’s today?”
That low, throaty chuckle—his morning laugh—hits my ears. “You forgot already?”
My brain claws through the fog of being half-asleep. I roll over to face him. “Refresh my memory,” I say in a playful tone. You’d think that living life backward over the past five months would have trained me to be more careful about what I ask, but no. Especially when I’m groggy from sleep.
Milo sits on the edge of the bed and brushes a chunk of hair from my face. “Costa family pool party. Annual tradition. Every September. The whole reason we came here,” he says with a half smile.
“Right.”
“Thanks again for being a good sport about it. I know taking off work at the last minute to fly to Portugal for a pool party isn’t really a reasonable request.”
I shake my head and clasp my hand around his, which is now cupping my face. This. His touch, his gaze, his morning voice, being in his bed in the home where he grew up—it all feels so right, like I’m meant to be doing this.
“I want to be here with you, Milo.”
That half smile morphs into a full one before a sad sheen glistens in his eyes. “It means a lot that you’re here, Riley. I want my grandma to meet you. I know with her dementia worsening, she probably won’t remember anything, but we still want to do it. For her. When she was healthy, she loved the family pool party. It was her favorite day ...”
He clears his throat at the same moment that I notice the gleam in his eyes. I sit up and cup his face in my hands. “Whatever you need me to do to make this the best damn pool party for your grandma, just say so. You say ‘jump,’ and my response will be ‘How high?’”
Milo grins before kissing me. “You’re the best, you know that?”
We get dressed together.
“Just remember what I said before,” he says. “The Costa side of my family gets wild. There’s gonna be lots of alcohol. And nudity. But it’s all in good fun.”
Milo winks and I chuckle. Not my standard reaction to hearing about the prospect of nudity at a family pool party. My old self—my pre–time warp self—would have been shocked. Now I’m just excited.
I smile at him. “I’m ready.”
When we arrive at Milo’s aunt’s house, we’re greeted with exactly what Milo promised: nudity and alcohol.
I let out a breath after I take in the adorable sight of a dozen little toddlers and babies swimming and playing naked. All the adults are fully clothed or wearing swimsuits.
“Mama, I don’t want to wear my shorts!” announces a little blond boy who looks to be about three. He sheds his orange swim trunks and darts to the corner of the massive yard and pees into the grass.
Milo chuckles before turning to me and shrugging. “When you gotta go, you gotta go.”
I laugh. We walk over to join the several dozens of his relatives milling around the huge pool. Half are lounging around in chairs; the other half are gathered around a long table that holds a feast along with at least two dozen alcohol bottles and mixers.
Milo offers a sympathetic look to an early-thirties woman who has the same shade of sandy-blonde hair as the little boy.
“Hang in there, Ana.”
She shakes her head. “I always do.” She beams at me. “And who is this?”
“Riley. My girlfriend.”
Ana pulls me into a hug. “Oh, it’s so lovely to meet you, Riley!”
When she releases me, she playfully smacks Milo on the arm. “It’s about time you brought her around.” She aims a conspiratorial look at me. “He’s head over heels about you, you know. He’s never brought someone home for our annual pool party.”
Milo flashes a flustered smile. “Okay, thank you, Ana. We’ll catch up later.” He leads me away, his tan cheeks flushing pink.
“Is that true?” I ask him as I tug him gently by the hand to get him to stop.
He flashes a shy smile before nodding.
Something bursts at the center of my chest. I press a quick kiss to his lips before a group of his relatives crowd us, greeting us with hugs and demanding that Milo introduce me.
“T?o linda!”
“Sim! Muito bonita!”
“They’re all raving about how beautiful you are,” he says quietly to me.
This time I’m the one with flushed cheeks. “Oh gosh, thank you. And thank you for letting me come to your family gathering. I know it’s so special.”
Just then Daniela rushes up to us. She pulls me into a hug before hugging Milo. “About time you got here! Here, your cousin is trying to light the grill, but he’s going to set the entire house on fire. Go help him.”
Milo says he’ll be right there. “You’ll be okay while I’m gone?” he asks me.
I’m heartened that he thinks to check on me.
I kiss his cheek. “Yeah, I’ll be good. I’ll hang out with your mom.”
Daniela scoops my hand in hers. “Absolutely. First, we need to get you some food to fuel up before you meet the rest of the Costa clan.”
I follow her to the food table, which looks like a formal dining table that they brought outside. She piles a plate high for me. My mouth waters at the endless plates of grilled seafood and meat and veggies.
“Here. Sit. Eat.”
I follow her instructions and sit at one of the handful of patio tables in the yard. I juggle eating and saying hello to all the relatives who come up and introduce themselves to me.
I’m quickly chewing so I can hug the tenth person who comes up to me when Daniela scolds them in Portuguese first and then in English.
“Goodness, stop swarming the poor girl. Her mouth is full.”
I chuckle and tell her it’s okay. My phone buzzes with a text, and I check it quickly.
Poppy: How’s meeting the family going? Do you need me to call you with a fake emergency?
As I try to quickly type a response under the table, I hear Daniela. “You don’t have to hide when you do that.”
I look up to see her smiling at me. I grimace. “Sorry, I just didn’t want to be rude and be on my phone in front of everyone.”
She waves a hand. “Nonsense. They’re all being rude by bothering you while you’re trying to eat.”
The handful of family sitting around us laughs in agreement.
“You go ahead and take that call,” Daniela says.
I stand up and thank her, excusing myself as I walk off to the edge of the yard by the back of the house and call Poppy.
“Oh shit, that bad, huh?”
I laugh. “Not at all.”
“Then why are you calling me?”
“Milo’s mom saw me trying to text you back and insisted I just call.”
“Wow. That’s kind of sweet. So spill. How’s it going?”
“Surprisingly well. All of his relatives are so warm and welcoming. I don’t think I’ve hugged this many people since seeing my own family.”
Poppy makes an “aww” sound I’ve rarely heard her make.
“Damn, did you just ‘aww’ at me, Poppy?”
“Fucking hell. I think I did.”
I snort a laugh into the phone.
“Well. I think I’ve officially been proven wrong about Milo. He’s not the twat I assumed he was.” She lets out a heavy sigh. “Forgive me for being such a bitch to him when you two started hanging out.”
I look down at my bare feet, curling my toes into the soft grass. “I forgive you, Poppy.”
“Thanks, Ri. You know I’m not one to make excuses for shit behavior, but I swear I did it out of love for you. I just felt so protective of you after what you had been through with fuckface. I mean, Tristan. Just seemed a bit weird that Milo was there for you. Almost like he was waiting in the wings. I guess I read that wrong.”
“It’s okay, Poppy. I get it. Promise.”
There’s high-pitched barking in the background, followed by what sounds like Desmond shouting.
“Christ, Des. How many times do I have to tell you? Don’t sneak up on Gus like that. It makes him nervous.”
Desmond makes a huffy noise. “How is walking down the hall sneaking up on him?”
“Make your presence known. Talk. Sing. Whistle. Christ, perform a Gregorian chant, I don’t care. Just don’t quietly walk up to him; you know he hates that.”
A few more seconds of bickering follow before I hear a muffled sound; then one of them goes “Mmm.”
“It sounds like you two are kissing. I’m hanging up now.”
“Bye, Riley,” Desmond murmurs.
“Talk to you later, Ri. Glad it’s all going well.”
I hang up, laughing quietly to myself. When I turn around and head back toward the party, I spot an elderly woman standing next to a massive rosebush. She glances around, the look in her eyes confused, like she’s seeing this place for the first time.
Then it dawns on me. This must be Milo’s grandmother.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Costa?” I say gently as I walk up to her, trying to keep my distance. She’s so small, just a hair above five feet. I take in her petite form, how the flowy, burnt-orange muumuu she’s wearing hangs like a curtain on her tiny body.
She frowns at me. “How do you know my name?”
“I know your grandson Milo. He told me about you.”
“Oh . . .”
The furrow in her brow deepens, and her lips purse. She tugs at the bun holding her gray-black hair back, save a few tendrils framing her face. I feel a slight pang in my chest. I’ve confused her even more.
“Here. Let’s get you back to the party.”
I offer her my arm, which she doesn’t take right away. Instead, she stares at me, that same frown etched on her face, studying me like she’s trying to memorize my face.
“Your children and grandchildren will be worried if you don’t head back soon.”
Eyes still on me, her expression starts to ease. And then, to my shock, she smiles. “Elena. Of course. Let’s go.”
She takes my arm, and together we walk back to the party. I spot Daniela looking around, then grinning wide when she sees us.
“ Mam?e , there you are.”
She takes her other side, and I let go. Daniela helps her back down into a patio chair, which is covered in plush cushions.
Milo walks over and crouches his tall, broad frame down to hug his grandmother. When he kisses her on the cheek, she smiles. “ Vovó. I see you’ve met Riley.”
He winks up at me. Daniela comes over and pulls me into a side hug. “Thank you for wrangling her,” she says in a quiet voice. “She gets so confused now and sometimes will walk off when she gets overwhelmed. It’s always so worrying.”
I ache at seeing the pain in Daniela’s eyes—the same eyes as her mother’s. The same eyes as her son’s.
“I’m glad I could help.”
“Elena,” Milo’s grandmother repeats.
I smile down at her. I don’t bother to correct her. I don’t want to confuse or overwhelm her. If she wants to call me by some random name, that’s fine by me.
But when I see the looks on Milo’s and Daniela’s faces, I pause. They look shocked and ... worried? Milo seems about to say something but stops himself.
“Riley, Mam?e . Her name is Riley.”
I smile. “It’s okay, really.”
One of Milo’s uncles waves me back to the table, insisting that I finish my plate of food. I walk over and take my seat, chatting and eating with his family. Soon Milo walks over and moves to sit in the empty chair next to me right as one of his cousins stops by.
“Rafa, this is Riley, my girlfriend.”
I stand up to shake his hand, taking in the amused look on Rafa’s face. I smile politely and quietly wonder what that’s about.
A beat later Rafa reins in his expression. He returns a cordial smile. “Pleasure to meet you, Riley.”
“Dressing like a yacht d-bag today?” Milo says.
I’m caught off guard until Rafa laughs. “You know it.” He runs a hand through his wavy, jet-black hair before elbowing Milo. They both chuckle. Clearly they’re just joking. They walk off right as Milo’s aunt insists that I try her rice pudding, so I sit back down and enjoy the most flavorful rice pudding I’ve ever had. I’m devouring the bowl, nodding along with the conversation at the table.
Behind me I hear Rafa.
“Really, Milo? Again? Is this a pattern with you?”
“Rafa. Stop.”
The bite in Milo’s tone is unmistakable, even though I can tell he’s straining to keep his voice down. As much as I want to, I don’t turn around to see what they’re arguing about. No one else around us has seemed to pick up on whatever tension is between them, too busy laughing and talking.
“Look, man. I only ask because it’s not a normal thing to do. To go after—”
“I didn’t go after anyone.”
Rafa scoffs at Milo’s curt words. My ears perk up.
“You sure about that, Milo? Because even Vovó sees it. And she has dementia.” Another scoff. “She called your girlfriend Elena, for Christ’s sake.”
“Rafa. Enough.”
Milo is so loud that the people sitting around me look toward them. I do the same.
I take in their flushed cheeks and the startled looks on their faces.
“You two behaving yourselves?” someone asks, one of their cousins whose name I can’t remember.
“Always.” Rafa flashes a strained smile. Milo’s mouth remains a straight line. He nods.
“Who’s ready for the diving contest?” someone yells from the pool. Everyone cheers.
Several people ask if I’m up for participating, but I politely decline, saying I’m too busy enjoying the delicious food. Milo sits down next to me, and I can practically feel the tense energy buzzing off him, like an electrical current.
“You okay?” I ask.
He nods and finishes the rest of my rice pudding. “Yeah. Just hungry. Also, Rafa’s a douche.”
“I gathered that.”
He offers a weak smile before turning to chat with his family. For the rest of the time that we’re there, I laugh and chat and make sure that it looks like I’m having a great time. I am. But I can’t help playing back what Rafa said over and over in the back of my mind.
She called your girlfriend Elena.
When we leave the party and head back to his parents’ house, two questions dominate my mind: Who the hell is Elena? And why does Rafa think it’s so awful that their grandmother called me that?