Chapter Four Eric
Chapter Four
Eric
The lot owner helps us secure the tree to the bed, and I volunteer to drive home.
Once we’re inside Nicole’s pickup, I settle my hands on the wheel and let out a breath so cold I can see it swirling in the air. “Confession: I actually enjoyed the holiday market.”
Juliana blows on her hands to warm them, so I turn the heat on full blast.
“My father used money to manipulate my mom.”
That’s it. That’s all she says. My brain’s on overdrive trying to figure out where this conversation is headed—no, it doesn’t matter. I don’t need to solve a problem or slay her dragons. I just need to let her speak. I unfasten my seat belt and shift my body so I can face her. “I’m listening.”
She blinks a few times, then drops her head.
“He convinced my mother to quit her job. Said it was his duty to be the breadwinner. I was eight or nine when she stopped working. He never let her—us, really—forget that he was the one paying the bills, buying our food, providing for the family. And when things were rocky between them, he’d punish her by withholding money—for clothes, toiletries, a night out at the movies.
I remember the arguments she thought I couldn’t hear.
What’s worse is that it didn’t get better when she left him.
Even in my teens, he played games. Refusing to pay child support.
Missing payments. The best part about turning eighteen was that he no longer had a reason to be involved in our lives. ”
She lifts her head and angles her body toward me. “As long as I’m physically and mentally capable to do so, I will work. And I accept what you think are ridiculous demands from my boss because I’m building a career and that’s important to me. It’s my safety net.”
This is what her mother alluded to: Not controlling her own finances makes Juliana feel unsafe.
I don’t take this fear lightly. “I’m not suggesting you shouldn’t be ambitious.
Or that you shouldn’t have your own money.
I understand why you’d want to be independent.
But you should also be valued for everything you bring to the table. That place doesn’t deserve you.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You don’t answer to anyone. You run your own business.”
“A business that could go belly up at any moment.”
She scoffs. “I don’t see that happening. Ever.”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence, but nothing in life is guaranteed. The thing is, we need to be able to rely on each other as partners. That doesn’t mean I control the purse strings.
And it definitely doesn’t mean I control you.
It means we support each other. It means we make decisions together. ”
She sighs, rests her head against the headrest, and closes her eyes. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It isn’t,” I say, reaching over and taking her hand, “but it’d be worth the effort. Your mom said it’s how we handle the rough patches that truly matters, and I’m starting to understand exactly what she means.”
Juliana opens her eyes and whips her torso around to face me. “You talked to my mother about this?”
“We had a chat this morning. She said she sensed something was wrong. I covered for us by saying we were just experiencing a rough patch.”
“Oh God,” she says, hanging her head. “I told you not to pout.”
“First, I don’t pout, thank you very much. Second, intuition is one of the most powerful tools in a mother’s toolbox.”
Juliana lets out a resigned sigh. “You’re right about that. She’s been giving me odd looks since the moment we arrived.”
Juliana’s phone vibrates in her pocket; seriously, the timing could not be worse.
She raises a finger in the air. “Hang on. Let me just . . .”
I nod. Because she gets to choose how to handle her work life. I’m here to have her back if she wants me to.
“Okay, thanks for your patience while I checked my schedule,” she says to the person on the line. “Unfortunately, we’re going to have to pick this up in the new year. It can’t be helped. But I’ll be glad to go all in when I’m back in New York. Sure, talk then.”
She sets her phone on the console between us. “He’s pissed, but he’ll survive.”
“He needs you, that’s why.”
“I’m not going to change my entire personality overnight, but I’m seeing things through fresh eyes.”
“That’s a great start. For the both of us.”
“It is.”
And because we’re revealing a bunch of truths today, I add one more: “You know, sometimes I wish we could go back to the beginning and rewrite our story.”
She lifts her head and regards me warily. “Do you? What would you change?”
“Honestly, I wouldn’t ask you to marry me.”
She gasps, her eyes going round. “Wow, that’s harsh.”
“Please don’t misunderstand me. I’m not suggesting I wouldn’t want to marry you. I would. I do. But I think we moved too quickly. Didn’t give ourselves enough time to manage the bumps and cracks along the way. We just barreled through our issues because marriage was our destination.”
“So you’d take it slower.”
“Yeah, and I’d want us to talk a lot more. I’d listen a hell of a lot more too.”
She sighs. “I’d ask for your advice when I’m trying to resolve a problem. That’s definitely not my strong suit.”
We stare at each other. Is she feeling what I’m feeling? The possibilities? The promise? We’re so close to figuring our shit out.
Juliana traces a finger over my jaw. “You know, some of the best stories surprise you with a plot twist. Perhaps we can come up with our own?”
I caress her cheek, my heart pounding in my chest. “I like where I think this is going.”
“So do I.”
“May I kiss you?” I ask, the roughness in my voice surprising even me.
She strokes her throat and watches me through heavy lids. Finally, she says, “You may.”
I lean over, cup the back of her neck, and draw her to me. Our faces are centimeters apart, our chests rising and falling in anticipation. I press my cheek against hers. “I don’t want to give this up.”
“Maybe you won’t have to,” she whispers against my ear.
Our lips meet, and as usual, we savor each other, a languid exploration that leaves no room for anything else. I’m locked in on this, on us, on her.
Juliana sighs against my lips. “I need to get closer to you.”
“I’m here for whatever you need,” I murmur, dipping my chin so I can nuzzle her neck.
She heaves herself out of the passenger seat, maneuvers around the center console, and climbs onto my lap. I grab her ass and position us so that there’s no space between our bodies.
I look up at her, captivated by the softness of her smile, the passion in her gaze. “God, Juliana, this feels so fucking right. We can regroup, reassess, recalibrate, whatever. Just . . . let’s do it side by side.”
“Now that’s a deal I’m totally down for.”
She cradles my face in her hands and brings our mouths together.
A rap on the hood startles us, and we spring apart. Juliana nearly bashes her head against the dash scrambling back to her seat. Through the windshield, I glimpse the dad we saw earlier holding his girls’ hands.
“Get a room,” he mouths. Next to him, the girls stare at us and giggle.
“Oh my God, how embarrassing,” Juliana groans. “Let’s get out of here. There’s plenty of time for that later.”
“Indeed, babycakes. Indeed.”
By agreement, Juliana and I gather the family in the living room after we eat dinner but before we open the presents at midnight. We figure they’ll be sated and have something to look forward to when we tell them our news.
Sonia picks at her nails as she waits.
“Bitch, don’t tell me you’re pregnant,” Beatriz shouts, and Izzy chooses that moment to flex her verbal communication skills and chants, “Itch, itch, itch!”
Her outburst eases the tension in the room, and everyone laughs. Izzy, now realizing she has an audience, claps her hands and bounces on her father’s lap.
Juliana rises from her spot on the love seat we’re sharing and stands in front of everyone. “So I’m just going to say it. Eric and I are canceling the wedding.”
Her uncles gasp in unison, and Tia Claudia slaps a hand over her mouth.
“It’s not what you’re thinking,” I say, joining Juliana. “We’re slowing things down so we can get this right. We’re still in love. Still committed to each other. But we need to figure out some things without the stress of a wedding hanging over us.”
“You knew this when you came,” Sonia says, her forehead creased in confusion.
“No, actually,” Juliana says, giving her mother a sheepish grin. “We broke up.” She quickly adds, “Except now we’re back together. As of a few hours ago.”
“You weren’t going to tell us?” Nicole asks.
“I was hoping to tell you after the holidays. I didn’t want to mess up Christmas. Now the news isn’t as dire as it was going to be, and I’m really excited about the revised chapter we’re writing.”
Tio Enoque furrows his brow. “You two are writing a book? Since when?”
“We’ll explain it to you later, Enoque,” Nicole says with a laugh.
“Did your little trip to get the tree help you guys figure some things out?” Sonia asks, pinning us with a knowing gaze.
“Yeah, it did,” Juliana says. “How’d you know?”
Sonia shrugs. “A mother’s intuition, maybe.”
“Or a mother’s intervention,” Nicole adds with a wink.
Well, damn. I guess we’re not the only ones who can be sneaky. I’m not mad about it, though. Juliana and I are in a good place—figuring out our future at our own pace.
An hour later, everyone’s partying in the living room and having a great time. Tio Marcelo finally releases Juliana and Beatriz from their dancing duties, and Juliana stumbles over to the couch and collapses against me.
I give her a quick kiss. “Confession.”
“Another one?” she asks, playfully shaking her head as if she’s exasperated.
“You’ll like this one, I promise.”
“Lay it on me,” she says.
“I’m glad we made the deal. It forced us to confront some stuff I’m not sure we would have otherwise.”
“So you’re saying I’m a genius?” she says, her lips twitching.
“Not quite, but close.”
“Well, then, maybe that should be your term of endearment for me: my genius.”
“No, the right endearment was staring me in the face the whole time. Mi corazón. My heart. With zero sarcasm attached.”
Juliana sighs happily. “That’s the thing about us. We’re works in progress, but we’ll get to the right place eventually.”
“As long as you’re by my side, the right place is exactly where we are. Merry Christmas, mi corazón.”
She bops me on the nose and grins mischievously. “Feliz Natal, snookums!”