Chapter 21- Yours
It took a literal explosion to pull them apart.
Fireworks were going off overhead. For a moment, Will arrogantly thought they were meant to commemorate the moment, then realized they were for Christmas.
A tradition his family didn’t practice growing up, but on Christmas Eve, in Miami, you could see Fireworks litter the night sky.
“The rooster is crowing,” Lizzie said, referring to the Misa del Gallo, the fireworks marked that it was Christmas.
Will watched as the Fireworks shined off of Lizzie’s flushed face. “Merry Christmas,” he said.
Lizzie answered by giving him a sweet, tender, quick kiss. “I have something for you. Just wait one second.”
Will watched as Lizzie quickly trotted away. The drinks had been flowing for hours now, and the festive mood was high. People were starting to bring out gifts and hand them to each other. Lizzie was heading back with the wrapped gift in her hands.
She handed it to him and said, “Merry Christmas.”
Will unwrapped it, exposing a pink cafetera. “When I saw it, I remembered how much you liked Pink, and I thought I could use it to teach you how to make colada. Of course, that was before I uncovered that you were a master barista.”
Will chuckled and looked at it appreciatively.
“This is perfect,” he said. The little, pink coffee pot, with its narrow middle and flared out bottom, reminded him of the first time he had seen Lizzie, in her pink blazer.
The fire behind her eyes was incongruous with the softness of her curves.
He hadn’t realized how hard he’d fallen for her then, but he knew it now, as he held a trifle that was available for $8 at the local Sédanos, but it felt as precious to him as the holy grail because it came from her.
“I have a gift for you too, but… would you like to go back to my place? I want to give it to you there.”
Lizzie smiled and nodded. “Sure, just let me do the exchange with Abuela and Lidia.”
Will watched as Lizzie and Lidia exchanged gifts: a new ring light for Lidia and, for Lizzie, the hot new trending miracle balm, which Lidia said was terrific and was going to make her look ten years younger.
Lizzie gave Abuela a coffee serving tray from La Carreta, and Abuela gave her the same gift Lizzie got from her every year, some new underwear.
Lizzie opened it, not thinking how embarrassing it would be for Will to see the cotton, full-bottom underwear with little flowers that Lizzie was partial to. But also the fact that even at 26, Lizzie’s grandmother was choosing her undergarments.
Lizzie kissed Abuela on the cheek and tried to hide the package from Will as they went inside to drop off the gifts before leaving, but it was too late.
“Sneak peek of what I can expect to see in the future?” He teased.
“Oh no! These are the new ones. I save these for church, or other special occasions,” Lizzie replied cheekily.
Lizzie grabbed her purse, and Will indicated the people outside with a jerk of his chin. “Don’t you need to say goodbye to all of them?”
Lizzie looked incredulous. “Have you ever tried to say goodbye to a massive Cuban family? Do you want to spend an hour on goodbyes for a group that won’t remember anyway?
Better we just sneak out, and if anyone complains, we just say we told them, and they were either too drunk or old to remember.
” And with a conspiratorial wink, they headed for the door.
Brickell, the area near downtown Miami where Will had his apartment, was quiet this time of night on Christmas Eve/ Christmas morning. Lizzie had never been here except when business dictated it during daylight hours, and it was weird to imagine people living there.
The penthouse apartment had a view that took Lizzie’s breath away. The whole city lay before her in its neon glory, with an ocean and palm tree backdrop.
“Pretty amazing, huh?” Will said, coming up behind her with a glass of wine.
“Yeah, it’s even better than the view from the rooftop at Pemberley.”
Will handed her a small box with a tight little bow on top. Lizzie set down her wine, opened the box, and pulled out a delicate gold necklace with coordinates, similar to Will’s tattoo but not identical to it. Lizzie screwed up her face trying to figure out where the coordinates led.
“It’s the location of Pemberley Pharmaceuticals HQ. I know it’s not the most romantic place, but it’s the place where I met you. The place where I… I fell in love.” Will held his breath, and Lizzie beamed.
“It’s beautiful,” Lizzie said, and then, handing him the necklace, added, “Do you mind?” She turned around and lifted her hair so that he could easily clasp it on.
Will moved his arms around her, the soft curve of her hips pressing back into him; the smell of honeysuckle from her hair was intoxicating. He was almost trembling as he helped put on her necklace.
Once secured, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. He instead brought his mouth to the soft curve of her neck and placed a kiss. She let out a soft hum that made Will start to unravel. He had been containing himself for too long.
Will’s lips lingered at the hollow beneath her ear. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered against her skin, voice ragged. “Tell me now and I’ll—”
Lizzie turned in his arms so fast that the necklace chain caught on his fingers.
“Don’t you dare stop.” The words barely left her mouth before his hands were in her hair, tilting her face up, kissing her like the last three months had been foreplay and he was finally allowed to breathe.
It wasn’t gentle. It was months of warehouse nights, pastelitos left in secret, of almosts and hallways and red dresses and “no unless.” She tasted like coquito and cinnamon and every swear word he’d never let himself say out loud.
He walked her backward until her spine hit the floor-to-ceiling window, city lights exploding behind her like the whole damn skyline was celebrating.
His palms slid down her sides, gripping the curve of her waist, thumbs brushing the soft carnita Abuela had proudly pointed out.
“Been thinking about this part since Thanksgiving,” he growled against her throat. “Every time you spun out on that dance floor, I had to count ceiling tiles to keep from dragging you somewhere private.”
Lizzie laughed—breathless, wicked. “You should’ve.
Would’ve saved us both a lot of suffering.
” She tugged his shirt over his head, nails raking down his back hard enough to leave marks he’d wear like medals.
He groaned her name like a prayer, lifted her, and her legs wrapped around his waist as if they’d rehearsed it.
Red dress met the floor. Guayabera met the floor.
Everything else followed in a frantic, laughing, Spanish-cursing pile.
Later—minutes or hours, time had stopped cooperating—he had her on the kitchen island, her back arched, his mouth tracing every inch Abuela had jokingly blessed.
She tasted like salt and sweetness and “finally.” When she came the first time, she bit his shoulder to muffle the sound and whispered “te quiero” against his skin like a secret she’d been terrified to say out loud.
When he followed her over, he buried his face in her neck and said the words he’d practiced in his head since the night he wrote the memo: “Yours. Mind, body, soul. All of it. Always.”
After, wrapped in nothing but the city lights and each other, she traced the coordinates tattooed on his wrist. “Hialeah will always be home for you,” she murmured.
He kissed the new necklace resting between her breasts. “And this—this is where I met the woman who rewrote the meaning of the word.” Outside, the last firework faded. Inside, they didn’t notice.