44. Amalia
“What if he doesn’t like me?” I ask, my hands moving through my hair, trying to tame it slightly.
“Amalia, he’s going to adore you.”
Silas steps out of the car and opens my door.
Ay, for the love of…I’m not even sure which mathematician can deal with this. How do you win over a ten-year-old?
I don’t get a chance to wait for the divinity’s answer because through the door comes a little boy with dark hair and Silas’s eyes, dressed in denim overalls and, naturally, Converse sneakers.
“Silaaaaaaas,” he calls out, and my boyfriend drops to his level to take him in his arms.
The butterflies in my stomach go completely out of control watching the man I adore holding a miniature copy of himself. Sleeves rolled up. That tattoo he once explained to me as the Chinese symbol for family on full display.
Behind the boy stands a woman with chestnut hair, wearing jeans, a red T-shirt, and ballet flats. She has a natural beauty, the kind that doesn’t need makeup, and yet her skin still glows.
“Sebastian Vaughn, the floor was wet when you decided to sprint like you were at the races,” she calls after him, but the boy just giggles and hides behind Silas.
Her eyes find me, and before I manage to wave or introduce myself, she’s already coming toward me with open arms.
“Encantada, Amalia. Thank you for looking after Silas,” she whispers, and without meaning to, I hold her tighter, because she radiates warmth, and because she absorbs some of the nerves from this moment.
“Encantada, Karina,” I answer with a smile, and when I look at my boyfriend, I see a particular brightness in his eyes.
“This destroyer of floors is Sebastian,” Karina tells me, and I watch as he takes a few steps toward me.
For sixty full seconds, he simply studies me. From the bun to the clips, to the jeans painted with various flowers, all the way down to the lavender boots.
“Do you love Uncle Silas?” he asks. My eyes go wide, and I’m fairly certain my cheeks have caught fire.
Silas laughs behind him alongside Karina, so I bend down to Sebastian’s level. With my hand extended toward him, I answer.
“Yes, I do. I’m Amalia. Lovely to meet you, Seb.”
“How much?” he asks, and I bite my lower lip without meaning to while my eyes find the man who quiets my loudest thoughts.
“One thousand percent.”
Sebastian’s eyes go wide, and he places his hand in mine.
“Wooow, that’s a lot,” he tells me in an awed tone. “Sebastian Dean Vaughn, encantado to meet you!” he says in the most adorable Colombian accent I have ever heard in my life.
After that he runs inside, where he immediately starts calling for us to come see what he managed to build on his latest robot.
Karina goes ahead of us, and I barely make it to the entrance hall before Silas turns me toward him. With his lips no more than half an inch from mine, he says,
“Only one thousand percent? Looks like I still have work to do.” Then his mouth takes over mine, like he has all the time in the world and intends to use every second of it.
His hand comes up to cup my jaw, tilting it exactly where he wants me, and I forget for a second where we are, so I try to reason with him.
“Baby, as much—” a kiss, “—as I love—” another kiss, “—to kiss you...they are in the other—” kiss, “—room.”
I know my cheeks are tomato red.
“Fuck, I love to see you blush. But I’m still not ok with that percentage.”
How do I explain to him that I don’t have a formula, a calculation, or an algorithm that could honestly reflect the way my heart expands when I see him?
That he’s the only person beside whom my mind goes quiet, the only one who makes my fears kneel simply by the way he looks at me every day, as though I invented fire.
He gives me a peck on the cheek, and then we follow Sebastian’s voice into the next room where he explains how the engine he built works.
Something in my rational mind tells me there is no degree or textbook that teaches you this: how much you should treasure the small moments when everyone you care about in this world is in the same room, safe and laughing.
?Te extra?o miles, tío chulo!