Epilogue
charlie
two months later
“Honey bun?” Raf calls out from somewhere in the house as I walk into the kitchen with my hands full of groceries. There’s a bag of chips between my teeth, however—because screw taking anymore than one trip from the car—so I can’t answer. “Do you need help? I’m in the living room.” He knows me too well. I’ve hardly made a sound, and yet he knows I have my arms full of something.
I drop the chips on the counter as I set the bags on the floor. “Nope, I’m good. Be right there.” Picking the bag of chips back up—with my hand—I head into the room and come to a halt when I see all of the books spread out on the coffee table, Pumpkin laying on some of them without a care in the world and not sparing me a glance. I love this cat.
Rafael is smiling as he opens one to the front cover. I’d forgotten about this. That I wrote in all of his books before I knew I was falling in love with him. I have no recollection of what’s written in those pages .
“Uh, hi.” The snack in my hand crinkles loudly, and my favorite pair of brown eyes meet mine.
“Get over here, red.” He pats the spot next to him on the couch, and I take slow steps, willing my brain to recall what I wrote. “When did you do this?” His brows crinkle as he reads another message.
“Mushroom night.” He doesn’t like it when I refer to that event as anything having to do with the hospital or me poisoning him, so I just call it that.
He nods, as if my answer somehow clarifies something. I do remember that I neatly printed everything, not using my usual swoopy handwriting. I wanted him to be able to read it easily.
“Will you read this one to me?” This is not an unusual request for him. I read aloud to him often. Scenes I’m working on, a book we’re reading together, little sticky notes I leave to myself on my laptop. And it’s not because he can’t read most of it himself; he just likes it when I read to him. And I like doing it. He hands me a book opened on the cover page, and I set the bag down on the floor.
I begin reading slowly.
Raf,
I feel I should confess that the villain in this book was based on what I knew about you at the time, which wasn’t very much. I’m sorry,
-Chuck
I wince, closing the book and setting it on my lap. Before I can say anything else, he hands me another.
Rafael,
In my mind, the hero of this book laughs just like you. Deeply, sincerely, with his whole body.
-Carrot cake
As I finish, he takes the book I’ve just read from and hands me another.
Raf,
Do you remember the reference I made to Friends in this story? I thought of you when I wrote it.
-Ginger Spice
My chest feels tight as I remember sitting here, with Pumpkin watching me, reading these out loud to her as I wrote, wondering if he would ever find them.
Machado,
When I wrote the first kiss in this story, I thought it was unrealistic because there was no way anyone could ever actually experience something so wonderful. You proved me wrong. Thank you for that.
-Red
“You were kind of obsessed with me, huh?” His tone is sweet when he breaks the silence, but still, I roll my eyes at his comment. The look he sends me is both a warning and a promise, and I have to shift on the sofa as my insides warm. “It’s nice to know I wasn’t the only one.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and then pushes my curls off my shoulder.
“I suppose you made a small impression on me.” I shrug, feigning indifference, simply to push his buttons.
“I’m about to make a very big impression on you now if you don’t quit that sass.” He leans into me, kissing my neck, and my breath hitches on contact. It’s not new. In fact, I feel his lips on me every day now, and still, I get goosebumps every time.
“We can’t,” I whine. “We need to clean this up and get all of that food ready.” I cradle his smooth cheeks in my hands and kiss him softly, pulling back quickly so as not to be tempted for more. I wish I’d come home sooner.
Home .
It’s where I am now. It’s where he is always.
And it’s where our families are about to be in thirty minutes to celebrate me officially moving in.
rafael
I had been putting away the copy of the book Charlie got for my birthday when something nagged at me to open one of the other books up. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. Every single one had something sweet or funny written inside. Every single one was signed by a nickname I’d given her. I’m going to have to request a personalized message to be written in all of her future books.
With a raging hard-on, I eventually put all of Charlie’s books back on our bookshelf and then helped her get food and drinks set out. After we went to London to get her things packed up a few weeks ago, I suggested she have her things brought here because there was no room in the small apartment she was subletting. Two weeks after that, she realized she was keeping more of her everyday things here also, and without preamble, asked if I thought I could handle her staying over being a full-time thing.
I cried because I’d been wanting her here every day since she walked into me with her eyes closed. Then, I finally fucked her on the couch. Our couch. Figures she would be the first and only.
Now, nearly everyone we love is here. My mom is holding a baby, my brothers are acting somewhat normal, and Vó is chatting with Eva, who spends more time here in California than in Massachusetts. I turn toward the kitchen door to grab another tray of food and spot a familiar head of brown hair coming in through the gate. I didn’t think he’d come.
“Hey, little brother.” Arthur pulls me into a hug, and when I don’t say anything, he continues, “I wasn’t gonna come, but I wanted to be here for you and Charlie. I don’t want any drama. I just wanted to come and say hello, and I can take off.” He scans the backyard quickly, likely looking for our dad, who just happened to run out to grab some more ice, something he insisted on doing since a host shouldn’t leave his own party.
“I’m happy you’re here, man. Really. Thank you for coming.” I hold his eyes for a moment. “Pai just stepped out, but he’ll be back soon.” I leave it at that. He can do with this information what he will. I’m just glad he felt comfortable enough to come.
Arthur blows out a relieved breath. “I’ll just say hi to Charlie and everyone. I won’t stay long.”
I nod, understanding but also not, because we still don’t know what the fuck happened between him and our dad.
“I’m really happy for you, Raf. For Charlie, too.” He squeezes my shoulder, a small smile on his lips. Arthur is the least emotional of us all, but he has his moments.
“I know you are, brother. And I appreciate the hand you had in helping me figure this out, you know? Thank you.” I pull him in for another hug, holding on a second longer this time. “Go find my girl. M?e and Vó will be really happy to see you too.”
Arthur didn’t stay long, like he said. I don’t even know if he and my dad saw each other, and no one really mentioned it, likely not wanting to bring it up. Seeing him here today, though, gave me hope that they’ll sort this out soon.
I’ve just finished loading the dishwasher when I hear soft footsteps behind me. I look over my shoulder to find the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her red hair is piled on top of her head, she doesn’t have any makeup on, she’s wearing one of my hoodies that reach her mid-thigh and bright orange knee-high socks on her feet. Her hands are behind her back, and she’s biting her lower lip like she has something to say.
Setting the dishwasher, I give her my full attention.
“I have something for you. It was supposed to be a birthday gift, but I didn’t know it was your birthday on your actual birthday, and I thought I’d have more time, and then we went to London and then the moving, and now we’re here, and it’s finally ready, and I can’t wait any longer to give it to you, so here, please just take it.” She sticks her hand out, a black box with a bright green bow on it. Her cheeks are pink, and her breathing is quickened from the run-on sentence.
Taking the box from her, I run my finger over the silky ribbon, tugging one end to undo the bow. I tuck the piece of green satin into the pocket of my sweatpants, taking a deep breath before lifting one end of the box. Whatever is in here is important to Charlie.
Once I’ve flipped the lid and put the box inside it, I move the white tissue paper to reveal a brown leather book with the words “Machado Family Recipes” in gold lettering. It looks similar to the notebook Vó had been writing in, but I know that’s not it. As I open it, I’m met with family photos, all taken around the kitchen or table, some from when we were kids, others as recently as the day of my birthday festivities a couple of months ago. Every recipe that had been written in the notebook is typed up in a font I know is meant to be easy to read for dyslexics. They’re all here. Every dish I’ve made with Vó so far. I swallow hard past the tightness in my throat.
“You got these photos from my family?” I meet Charlie’s wide blue eyes, and she nods. “And the recent ones of me cooking with Vó, you took those?” I know she did, yet I feel my muscles relax when she gives me another affirmative. “These rings on the inside; do these mean that we can add more pages to this cookbook?” I can hardly keep my eyes open, I’m squinting so hard, trying to keep my tears controlled. A whispered yes is her answer. “You didn’t have to do this, shortcake.”
“I wanted to. I wanted to from the moment you asked me to help you, and I knew I needed to that first Tuesday afternoon in your family’s kitchen.” She licks her lips, fingers fidgeting with the hem of the old sweatshirt.
“Thank you, Charlie. Thank you for this, and thank you for loving me the way you do. You love me in the way I’ve always wanted to be loved, you know? You pay attention to the things I say, to what’s important to me. You see me, and you choose me anyway.” There’s no holding them back now. The tears roll down my cheeks in quick, hot streams.
“I love you the only way I know how. I see you, and I choose you because you’re the best person I know.” Her voice is clear, sure. I set the box down and reach for her, my arms wrapping around her waist. “Because you’ve always seen me, and even in my hardest moments, you’ve always chosen me.” Her delicate fingers wipe away my tears as I hold on to her as if she’s my anchor, keeping me steady on the ground. “I love you because I don’t know any other way to live now, and I never will. However long my life might be, I will spend the rest of it loving you and only you.”
“If I ask you one day, would you marry me? I don’t have a ring yet, and this isn’t an official proposal or anything, but would you want that? With me?” I can’t believe I just fucking asked her to marry me. I mean, I want that. I want that so fucking badly, but it’s too soon. I know it is.
She opens her mouth to speak then closes it again, thinking through her answer. “Could we do the ceremony in your parents’ backyard and have our first dance in their kitchen? Because I think that’s the only way I want to do it.” Her nose scrunches, and her freckles dance across her creamy skin. “And we’ll drive away with the little cans dragging behind the car while everyone waves us off outside.” A laugh bursts out of me as more tears come.
“Yeah, carrot cake. We can do that. We can do whatever you want.” Somehow, my love for her grows even stronger, my heart expands to make more room for all the ways I love this incredible woman.
She smiles brightly up at me. “Then, I’ll definitely, definitely say yes when you ask me. One day.”
THE END