Chapter 21
Chuck: And there they are again, exactly where we expected.
Lou: Consistency is key, isn’t it?
Chuck: Not when it’s consistently disastrous.
Lou: Eh, even disasters have their own charm.
My heartbeat matches the rhythm of my feet pounding against the paved running trail.
I may not be the fastest runner, but being fast isn’t my goal anyway—consistency is.
Every morning I make an attempt to run three miles.
It helps clear my head and makes me feel good.
I don’t believe in needing to force myself to move my body.
I’m not doing this for weight loss. I enjoy it.
I love how the destination gives me one thing to focus on, the push and pull as my toes move me into my next step.
It's an easy goal, the next step.
Which is exactly what my heart tells me to do with Clint.
Take the next step. But the argument between my parents flutters through my mind as I slow to a stop in front of Sweet Bean.
My mom and I planned to have breakfast this week before Sweet Bean opens.
The fact that I’m up at the ass crack of dawn proves just how much I love her.
I brace my palms on my thighs as I take a deep inhale through my nose and release the last remnants of frustration when I exhale.
Catching my breath, I use my key to unlock the door before pocketing it and turning the deadbolt in place so her regulars don’t try to sneak in.
She doesn’t have the heart to turn anyone away.
Bringing my hand up to the side of my mouth, I yell, “Mami?”
She yells back from our table in the corner, “Mija, agarra los cafecitos en el mesa y vente para acá.” Honey, grab the coffees at the counter and come here.
“Dios mío, Mami, me asustaste.” Oh my God, Mom, you scared me.
Grasping my chest, I shake my head and take a breath.
She must have been over there setting up the table because it has guava and cheese pastries and toasty buttered Cuban bread.
I’m sure there’s fruit over there too, but she knows my love for the carby little bastards.
I grab both coffees and bring them over before setting them down on each side of the table, then lean over to kiss my mom on the cheek.
Meddlesome or not, she’s my everything and always goes out of her way to take care of me. Even when I’m insufferable.
“I’m sorry, mija. No quise asustarte.” I didn't mean to scare you. “Did you run all the way here?”
I nod my head, not allowing the sweet liquid to cool as I take a greedy sip—warming my body from the cool morning.
“How’s the boy you were on a run with the other day, hm?
” Mami’s voice is heavy with disapproval.
I hold back my chuckle at seeing her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed to barely-there slits.
I can already tell she’s claimed Clinton as her future son-in-law, and she doesn't even know the nitty-gritty of our past. Either way, it doesn't matter. She’s made her pick.
“Maaaa,” I drag out before I finally look up to her.
Her mouth is in a firm, straight line along with the all-knowing glare I’ve only ever seen moms pull off.
One day, I will be giving my child the same look and, genuinely, I’m excited for the day.
“The boy, has a name. Danny’s just a friend.
I needed to ask him something, and I knew he’d be one hundred percent honest with me. ”
“You could have asked me.” She shrugs, as if she has all the answers.
“Yeah? How could I have asked you if I sabotage all my relationships, hm?”
“Well, mija, you do.” The shock of her words coats my skin, goose bumps erupting as I sit staring at my mom.
I was so sure she wouldn’t understand my fear of love.
She may as well have pushed me out of the chair.
Me. I’m the reason for wrecking my relationships.
I knew it, but to hear it so plainly by someone so dear to me feels like a weight has been pressed on my chest. “I don’t mean to hurt you, Paloma.
But it is the truth, and I wish I had said something sooner.
But you’re so independent and sure, I didn’t want to misstep. ”
“I know you don't mean to hurt me, Ma. I guess, well…I don't know. It hurts all the same. I don’t know if I’m able to change. I believe in the possibility of love—for Cassidy, for you, for—” Clinton’s handsome face flashes in my mind, because I do believe in love for him, but to believe it for him and not for myself, I don’t know if it's something I want to verbalize. “For everyone else but me. I don’t want to open myself to the chance of…”
“Of heartbreak. And what makes you assume that’s what you’re destined for?” she asks me, and I’m not entirely prepared to answer, but I do anyhow.
“The night you and Dad argued and he left…broke something in me, Mami,” I choke out.
“It made me see just how fickle love is, and I don’t want a fly-by-night type of love.
He divorced you and then divorced me too.
I’ve never felt like a priority to a man, even one I loved so deeply.
That hurt is in my bones.” I rub my hands up and down my arms at the feel of how much this hurts.
“He abandoned me the moment it got hard. And I know, I know I wasn’t the best kid.
I was angry. I was angry that we weren’t a complete family anymore.
I felt like a consolation prize that was later forgotten about and thrown away.
My life was lived in two different places, and neither felt like home.
I know you were there, but it felt like he orphaned me.
And I feel…I feel so broken, Mom. I don’t think I can ever give anyone the love they deserve.
If my own father couldn’t love me through the hard days, how can I expect anyone else to? ”
Mami reaches over and wipes away the tears running down my cheeks.
“Oh, my love. There was so much more going on between him and me that you weren’t privy to.
You simply didn’t need to know because you were a child,” my mom says as she reaches over, placing her hand on my own.
“Paloma, I need you to look at me when I say this.” She waits for me to fully focus on her and get out of my head.
“You cannot be scared of heartbreak because you’ll never allow yourself to truly fall in love if you are.
I saw the way you looked at that Clinton Morrison. ”
My face must show my surprise because she pats my hand.
She even knows his name. I don’t have time to dwell on that fact as she continues, “Yes, I know who he is. The golf professional, the same one you were dating several years ago. I could never forget the face of the man who looks at my daughter the way he does. No man looks at a woman like that. The way he looks at you, mija, it’s as if his soul has been stolen away along with his heart.
Don’t sell yourself short with living in the mistaken memories of your papi and me.
We made many mistakes, both of us, and I am so sorry I said what I did.
There is nothing I can do to erase the memory of that night from you and your father’s memory.
No matter how badly I wish I could. He and I both said things we aren’t proud of.
Said things we can never take back, but we’ve moved on from each other, and it has been for the better for both of us. For you.”
“I’m still so mad at him. After that night, he came to get his things. He became a ghost of a parent, and I wish he’d thought longer of me.” I swipe away a tear slipping down my cheek.
“You’re right, honey. I think he may have thought he was doing the right thing. You were so angry and he wanted…Well, I won't put any more words in his mouth, but I will give you some advice, mija. Advice you aren't going to like but I hope you will consider taking.”
“Of course, Mami, anything,” I quickly respond and mean it.
“I think you should talk to your papi. I feel you may need to hear what he has to say.”
“I’ll think about it, okay?” She nods her head in response and picks up a piece of buttered Cuban bread.
“And Paloma?” She pulls my attention back as I move the fruit around on my plate, having lost my appetite.
“Yes?”
“No dejes que el miedo al amor voluble consuma tus pensamientos, no cuando ya has encontrado a alguien que prende fuego a tu alma.” Don’t let the fear of fickle love consume your thoughts, not when you’ve already found someone who sets your very soul on fire.
The run was satisfying, but the conversation with Mami is on my mind, and her words force me to think of Clint.
No matter what I try, no matter how much I’ve tried to move on from him, it’s Clint.
He’s all I can see. I’m full-on tunnel vision, and for once I don't know if I want to see anything else.
His hazel gaze comes to the forefront of my mind and all the different emotions I can see within them. Warmth, comfort, desire, but love is the most consistent glimmer. He loves me. Still.
As I jump in the shower, a tremor works its way from my scalp, down my neck and back. My body warms at the thought of him loving me fully and what it could mean if I give us a chance. Date nights at Midnight Miso, trying to teach him bachata, and I snort as I lather my body.
Time with him would be so much fun. I think I remember seeing a Latin Night at the Night Market coming up soon.
They always have the best music in town.
Or I could check to see if the course has any fun events coming up.
Would he be down to go if I asked him? He would, right?
In his voice, I hear Yes, Dove flicker through my thoughts.
Fuck me if just those two words don’t shift my focus to the hot water trickling down my body.
I pretend my hands are his, and my breath catches remembering how good his calloused hands felt as they would pinch and twist my nipples—I perform the same motions.
My groan is needy, conveying exactly how I feel.