Chapter 4 #2
The entire house has carpet aside from the maple-stained wood in the kitchen and bathrooms. An oversized two-seater orange sectional is set in the corner of the room with an old, round glass coffee table I found at a garage sale right in the center.
The living room flows into the kitchen where a refinished, round dining table is tucked into the breakfast nook.
I drop my keys on top of the small island before heading down the hallway into my bedroom. My queen bed is set on a large, patterned rug where a round, wooden mandala headboard is displayed flush behind it. Another market steal, one that would need to be pulled from my cold, dead hands.
Waffles wraps around my legs. “Hey, mami’s boy,” I sing-song to my chunk of an orange cat.
Waffles meows from the floor, and I bend down to lift him into my arms, giving him a rub behind his ears. “If I don’t want to hear your abuela’s mouth, I better hurry up, huh?” He answers me with a sandpaper lick across my hand before giving me a quick nibble.
“Loma, I thought you were going to be late,” Mami says the moment I open the door to Sweet Bean. With her getting up early to open the store and staying well past closing, she can’t always get away, so we make it a point to get together when we’re both available. It helps us stay connected.
“Bendición, mami.” Kissing her cheek, I push my sunglasses up headband style, my short magenta locks stick up like a cockatoo.
I only know because my mom reaches over to tuck them out of the way.
“You know if you are going to complain about me almost being late, I could just be late,” laughing as she swats at me.
I rush to say the rest, “I could just be late and you could complain about me really being late.” She swats at me again, whisper-yelling something motherly in Spanish.
She has everything ready at the table. “I saw the most handsome man come into the café yesterday, mija. I gave him your phone number.”
My head snaps in her direction. “You what?!” I am absolutely mortified. What poor man did my mother give my phone number to, and why can’t she be less meddlesome? “Mami! You can’t just give out my number to some random man. What if he’s a serial killer?”
She scoffs and stretches out the next word, “Nooo. He was a nice man. Handsome and a little older too, and he had beautiful hazel eyes, mija. He said he just moved back into town.”
My hopes soar at the thought of amber-hazel eyes staring back at me as I fluff his short dark curls. Before I let those memories take over, I stuff them back down where they belong.
“You are the most insufferable mother I have,” I say, breathless from embarrassment.
“I am the only mother you have.”
“Exactly. So you can only imagine.” I laugh as she smirks at me. I pick up my fork and dig into the chicken mofongo she made for us. If you don’t eat it the very moment it’s placed in front of you, it’ll be ice cold the very next. I don’t make the rules.
A notification pings and I pull my phone from my pocket. There’s an unread email from Glen, the General Manager from the Mossy Oaks Golf Club. “It must be something about the charity event,” I mumble to Mami so she won’t think I’m ignoring her.
From: Mossy Oaks Golf Club
To: Albatross Charity Group
CC: Clinton Morrison
Hello everyone,
I am excited to meet with all of you this week.
We’ve got the beginnings of a great committee, and now our very own Clinton Morrison is back to headline this charity to raise money for the Albatross Youth Academy.
He’s bringing golf to the youth in our community, and his vision is more than just enhanced golf training; he’s building a safe space for kids.
Attached is a mock-up of the space, along with a list of anticipated activities to give you a better idea of this wonderful addition he’s bringing to Cypress Lake.
Best,
Glen
General Manager
My knuckles strain from how tight I’m holding my phone as I pull it away from my face, letting my arm hang loose at my side.
I can’t believe Clinton is the one who is putting on this charity.
They hadn’t revealed much information when they asked for vendors.
Only that it was something big for the kids in our community.
Many of our customers at Shaken Tropes are parents, and for them to have a place where their kids can go to develop a skill, do homework, heck—just be a kid, is huge.
I knew I wanted to be a part of it. But it being Clinton’s project… I don’t know.
Sliding my phone into my pocket, I remind myself it’s been seven years. He’s clearly moved on, maybe not with an intimate relationship, with building a business. And I;’e moved on with my life too.
Soft taps pull me out of thoughts and I notice Mami’s eyes are wide, and she’s pursing her lips so hard it’s a wonder they’ve not fallen off yet.
I lean my head in toward her. “Why are your lips so aggressive?”
“The handsome man—,” she starts to say, but I cut her off.
“Mami, I cannot believe you gave my number to some random guy. Have you lost your marbles completely?” She rolls her eyes at me and purses her lips again.
“He’s here. The handsome man,” my mother says, rising from the table we’re sharing as I attempt to turn and inspect the man she handed my number to. Her voice is all-knowing when she speaks again, “You may have missed your shot, mijita.”
I turn in my seat slowly, hoping to catch a small glance from over my shoulder, and time stops as I catch a glimpse of who the handsome man is.
Snapping my head back to face forward, I slouch in my chair.
Just my damn luck. She’s right. He’s incredibly handsome, still.
Unable to stop myself, I steal another look—his rich brown skin is highlighted by the teal polo he wears, one which grips his biceps in a way that should be against the law.
My breath comes out uneven at the thought of his eyes landing on me, and I wipe my sweaty hands on my pants.
He stands tall at six feet, and when his hazel gaze takes in Sweet Bean, it sweeps over in my direction, seemingly too caught up in the ambience of the space.
I would know; I helped thrift many of the tables and decor.
His salt-and-pepper beard only makes his chiseled jaw more pronounced. This man is absolute perfection. I shift my eyes over his strong, lean frame, one I have intimate knowledge of. His graying curls are more silver than I remember, but he is still the sexiest man I have ever laid my eyes on.
I have to approach him.
No, absolutely the fuck not.
His name sits on the tip of my tongue, drying out my mouth at the thought of saying it. I refuse, biting the inside of my cheek, saying his name would make this real. I’m scared out of my mind to be caught ogling him. Even so I push my chair back and take a deep breath preparing myself to stand.
Right before my ass leaves the seat, an equally stunning woman walks in after him. She’s laughing, her face exuding joy, and I feel a weight land in my gut.
Of course! What luck…the goddess next to him is the same woman who visited Shaken Tropes a few hours ago—the book I picked for her tucked snugly in her arms.
He looks around the shop searching for something, and I turn back around in my seat, needing to have my eyes on anything else but him.
Of course Clinton Morrison would come back to Cypress Lake with a stunning woman on his arm.
Watching them laugh with one another, it's clear there is a deep love between them.
My chest burns with jealousy, as if I even have the right to be jealous after what I did.
Why did this have to be my first time seeing him, and why did it have to be now?
I glance from the corner of my eye at her, her walk is cat-like, sure and agile in every single step.
She has a modelesque physique, and though very different from my plus-sized curves, she’s still every bit as incredible.
My eyes search her for something I can pick apart, something I can mock or obsess over, but there’s nothing, and honestly I don't want to be petty.
Internally I want to wish them the best but can’t, not him. Even after all these years, the very thought catches in my throat, drying it out. Just as he shifts in my direction, I tilt my head forward and cast my eyes to the fruit in front of me.
I hear the chair scrape against the tiled floor before she speaks. “Why are you sulking, Loma?” Mami asks me. I hadn’t realized she’d been watching me.
“No es nada.” It’s nothing. I wave her off, not really wanting to get into this with her right now.
She sucks her teeth, and I finally gaze in her direction. “Don’t lie, mija. You’ve never been a good liar so don’t try to start now. It’s not a hobby you want to pick up.”
I sigh, frustrated. “I don’t want to talk about it, Mami. Can you just…can we talk about anything else?” My voice is firm, and she knows I won’t budge.
She reaches over, grabbing a piece of grapefruit and pops half of it into her mouth. “Fine. Let’s talk about when you’re changing out the magenta from your hair.”
I chuckle under my breath. “You are impossible.” She smiles back at me, though it doesn't reach her eyes. We don’t hide things from one another, but this is something I just can’t share with her. Not right now.
Another customer walks in and she gives me a silent apology.
We both know it’s time for us to get back to our days.
Instead of saying goodbye, Mami leans in and kisses both of my cheeks.
“Whatever it is, don’t hold it in.” I give her a firm nod, and once she walks away, I pull my phone out of my pocket and open the group chat to the girls.
Paloma
I need a girls’ night asaptually.
My thumb hangs in limbo above the SEND button, and I realize in this very moment how dumb of me it was to corner myself into silence.
I’ve only shared bits and pieces about Clint with Cass, definitely not the whole story.
If I send this message I’m going to have a whole lot of explaining to do with Janelle and Brianna, not because I have to, but because why wouldn’t I after putting out the bat signal like this.
Closing my eyes, I lock the device and hold it to my chest before taking a deep inhale. “Fuck me,” I whisper the curse under my breath. I want to tell the girls, but I don’t know if I’m ready to face any of those feelings again. I don’t think my heart can handle this kind of heartbreak again.
Even if I did it to myself.