Say Yes (Something More) (19 page)

“Andrés,” I say on a rush of air, “there’s so much I have to tell you.”

“Me, too, mija.”

My heart soars. He called me his mija. He wants to get back together!

Unable to contain my joy, I blurt out. “I have a new family!”

Gio seizes that opportunity to pounce on his brother, nearly sending them both tumbling off the bed. “Hey!” I scream as I lurch forward and grab Gio’s nightshirt. “No rough play on the bed.”

“Pancakes! Pancakes!” Gio giggles as he rolls over with Manny in his arms.  

“Shhh,” I say to him. “I’m on the phone.”

But the boys ignore me as they roll to the other side of the bed. I’m not sure if they are fighting or playing, but they could break their necks if they continue.  

“You sound busy. I should let you go.” Andrés’s tone sounds distant, irritated, and I know he must think I’ve gone nuts, but I still have so much to tell him.

“Can I call you back in five minutes?” I ask.

I’ll bring the boys to Mom and explain I’ve got an important call, and then I’ll rush back upstairs and call him. 

“Sure,” he says, but I don’t like the way he says it, and now I’m wondering if he meant to call me his mija, or if this call was meant to be a final goodbye.  

* * *

Andrés

After I hang up with my ex-girlfriend, I throw the phone across the room, smashing it to pieces and leaving a nice dent in my cousin’s wall.

Cesar jerks open the bedroom door and pokes his head inside. His gaze is instantly drawn to the pieces of phone lying on the floor. “What the fuck, bro?”

I look away from him as I ball my hands into fists. Then I walk past him and descend the stairs two at a time and race through the condo until I’m on the back porch. Good thing Cesar has a punching bag outside, or else his wall would look a whole lot worse. I don’t bother with gloves as I start hitting the bag. I ignore the sweat running down the sides of my face and back as I punch and kick it until my body and soul are exhausted.

With a groan, I stumble backward and fall into a nearby chair. The plastic beneath me protests with a squeak, and for a moment, I think it’s going to break. Cesar takes the seat beside me, but I don’t look at my cousin. The wound from Christina’s betrayal is too raw, and I can’t look at anyone right now.

I work at unclenching my fists, which is hard to do because I was so tightly wound up while taking out my aggressions on the bag, my hands feel like rusty iron. I stare down at my fingers, which look more like claws at the moment. I imagine these claws ripping Jackson James’s head off. That prick stole my girl, and he doesn’t fucking deserve her!

“You gonna tell me?” Cesar finally asks.

I don’t want Cesar’s pity, but I know he wants an explanation. I smooth my hands over my face and then groan. “I’m too fucking late.”

His brow creases, and he leans forward. “What happened?”

“She was sleeping and that baby was in her bed.” I cast my gaze at him and shrug, pretending like my world imploding on itself is no big deal. “You know what that means?”

He arches a brow. “Did she say she was back with her old fiancé?”

I hang my head in my hands as I’m flooded with a memory I’d rather forget, like those words she spoke with such excitement. “She said she’s got a new family,” I say while staring down at the cracks in the pavement.

“I know what you need.”

I don’t like the note of amusement in Cesar’s voice. What I need is a bullet to the head to put me out of my misery, but when I look at his shit-eating grin, I know he’s got another plan in mind.

“What?” I ask.  

“To get fucking wasted and laid in Mexico.”

Chapter Eighteen

Christina

The rest of the week passes by in a blur. My mom and brothers keep me so busy, I don’t have much time to miss Andrés, which I guess is a good thing. During the day, we take my brothers to the zoo and museums. After Doc gets home, he and the boys go outside to play, and Mom and I squeeze in a few girl-time shopping trips. We have the same taste in clothes, which is cool. We both prefer comfort over style, and since she’s only one size bigger than me, we get a few matching pairs of jeans. She refuses to let me buy anything, which I reluctantly agree to, considering I may not have a job when I get back to Austin.

Mom has already been hinting I can work at her gallery, but I don’t know much about designing furniture, and honestly, choosing fabric for sofa cushions is not my passion. She’s already taken me to one of her galleries. She’s got several all over Texas and a few in New Mexico, Colorado, and Arizona. Her furniture is gorgeous, but I’m still shocked when I see the prices. There’s no way I could ever afford it, even if I get to keep my job painting cars. I guess one of the perks of being the owner’s daughter is she’s promised to come up to Austin and decorate my apartment for free.   

Even though I’m thoroughly worn out every night, Gio and Manny insist I read them bedtime stories, and if I don’t make it to their beds in time, they come to me, jumping up and down on my mattress until I settle them down and read a book. They both cuddle in my arms, which I don’t mind, although it makes it hard to hold the book open. They also insist on goodnight hugs and wet, sloppy kisses, which I don’t mind, either.

Then Doc and Mom come in and tuck them in bed. Afterward, Mom follows me to my room and kisses me goodnight. I’d like to say her affection makes me feel like a kid again, but I’ve never been kissed goodnight by my parents, so I’m not sure what to make of it. All I know is, this glow fills my heart with warmth when she’s holding me. Last night, after Doc told me goodnight and left us alone, Mom whispered she loved me. Instinctively, I whispered I loved her back. She held me tighter for a few more moments, sniffling against my ear, and then she turned out the lights and left me alone to bask in her love.    

It’s only after she leaves, and the heat in my chest starts to cool, that I have time to dwell on Andrés. He said I was his mija when he called. Was that force of habit or does he still care for me? If so, why doesn’t he answer my calls? Is he that busy he can’t find time to call me back or is there another reason? Like maybe he’s ready to finally move on, or maybe he’s found someone else. My chest clenches at the thought, squeezing out the last shreds of warmth from my heart. 

I usually lie in bed this way, with dark thoughts plaguing my mind as I obsess over Andrés, right before I grab my phone off the dresser and send him a quick text—a text he doesn’t answer. I’ve sent him pictures of me and my new family, and even one of the dollhouse. No response. If he doesn’t want to see me anymore, couldn’t he at least say something nice about the pictures?

 It seems I’ve traded one life for another. I’ve found my family but lost the love of my life. Is this some higher cosmic power saying I am only allowed one or the other? Though I’m grateful I have the chance to be part of this family, I wonder why I can’t have it all. I don’t think it’s too much to ask.

A nagging voice inside me tells me I should be grateful for what I’ve got, and I blew my chance with Andrés when I refused to consider having children with him. Now I’ve spent time with a loving family, I finally get why Andrés wants one of his own, but it doesn’t make the pain of him walking out any easier.

I haven’t heard from him since Sunday morning, and it’s already Wednesday night. Nearly five days, and he hasn’t bothered to respond to my messages. At first, I thought maybe something happened to him, but his cousin Cesar tagged him in a Facebook photo Monday. Andrés was drinking beer with a few of his cousins at the beach, and it was hard to tell, but I think I saw a girl’s hand waving behind their heads.

I must have examined that picture a hundred times, but I can’t tell exactly where they are or what they’re doing. Of one thing I’m certain, Andrés is drunk. His eyelids are half open, and he’s making this smoochy face to the camera. I get jealous when I wonder who could be on the other side of the lens. Is this why he hasn’t called me? Has he found someone else already? Maybe a girl who wants to have his babies?

My head is such a jumbled mess of thoughts, I don’t know what to make of our breakup. Though I can understand Andrés’s point of view, I’m still hurt by the way he left me. I mean, we’d only been dating six months, and he suddenly starts talking about babies. He walks out on me because he’s pissed I wanted to spend time with Tyler? I’m still not over Mrs. Peterson’s death, and now he adds to my heartbreak by leaving and then refusing to answer my messages.

Some part of me will always love Andrés. We’ve shared wonderful memories, and while we were together, he was so considerate and kind. I was his mija. I loved that about him, how he was always thinking of my needs and taking care of me. Then he throws a jealous fit and turns into a jerk. I still don’t get why our relationship had to end this way.

I fall asleep with Andrés’s name on my lips while I listen to the pounding of my heart in my ears, an inconsolable feeling of hopelessness and despair washing over me.

* * *

Andrés

I fall to the floor with a thud. Pain winces up my side, and a fucking bass drum is pounding in my head.

“Happy Thanksgiving, homie.” Cesar nudges my ribs with his boot. “Time to go home.”

“Already?” I cover my eyes with my hands. Too late. Someone is pulling back the heavy drapes.  

“Yeah, already.” Marie joins Cesar, hands planted on hips, scowling down at me like she’s suffering from a serious case of PMS.

I rub the sleep from my eyes. “What time is it?”

“Ten-thirty,” Marie snaps, waving a hand at the door. “Everyone is waiting downstairs, and none of us give a shit about your hangover.”

I slowly sit up and look at my cousins. “I knew I could count on my family to get me through this.”

“I tried.” Cesar laughs as he folds his arms across his chest. “I had two hot chicks lined up last night, and you blew us off.”

I swear under my breath. Cesar had convinced two horny college chicks we were Mexican fishermen. I guess they were looking for some no-strings-attached sex so they could go back to their fraternity boyfriends without any baggage. They’d been tall and pretty, one a blonde and the other a brunette. I wasn’t about to have sex with them. They giggled at everything I said. It was fucking annoying.   

I wince when Marie leans down and places her hand on my knee. She’s Uncle Arturo’s kid, his only daughter, and after years of trying to fit in with the boys in the family, she finally gave up and dedicated herself to making our lives a living hell. Even though she’s three years my junior, she’s given me more than one surprise atomic wedgie.

“If you miss her so much,” she says as her dark eyes soften, “why don’t you go get her back?”

The last thing I need is Marie’s pity. I avert my gaze and shrug. “She’s already moved on.”

“We’re moving on, too, if you don’t get dressed,” Cesar says as he throws my duffle bag onto the bed and tosses me a clean pair of jeans. “Take a shower first. You smell like shit.”

* * *

Christina

Thanksgiving dinner is just going to be the five of us. Doc says most of his family lives in West Texas, and my mom hasn’t spoken to her parents since she was kicked out of the house twenty-two years ago. The tradition in my mom’s house is for Doc to cook the turkey and Mom to decorate the dining room, which I guess is an all-day thing for her. Nobody is allowed in while she’s working, not even me. She says this year’s theme will include a special surprise just for me. I’m actually excited to see what she comes up with. So far, today is shaping up to be the best Thanksgiving of my life, even though I’m feeling melancholy over Andrés.

As I help Doc in the kitchen, I wonder what Andrés is doing for Thanksgiving. I imagine the entire Cruz family is gathered at his Tio’s house, and they’re eating turkey and tamales while listening to Tejano music. I bet Andrés and his cousins are drinking beer and teasing each other like they always do. I wonder if Tia’s little dog, Chico, is begging for scraps beneath the table, or if he’s already found an unsupervised plate to steal from. 

Luckily, since I already told Doc I can’t cook to save my life, he’s assigned me the menial task of cutting vegetables, which is good, because I can blame the occasional tear that slips down my cheek on the onions.

 “Eight years of marriage, and I’ve never seen your mother so happy.”

I look up at Doc, and he’s staring at me with this goofy, sentimental grin. His spectacles are crooked and his greying hair is a bit of a mess. He reminds me a bit of a Latino mad scientist.

I smile back and think this would make for a tender father/daughter moment if Doc’s hand wasn’t halfway up a turkey’s ass.

“I’m glad she’s happy,” I say. “I’m happy, too.” I feel kind of choked up when I look the softness reflected in his gaze, so I grab another onion.

I’ve never known a dad as nice as Doc… well, not since Tio. Though Doc’s a quiet, reflective man, sometimes I catch him and my mom stealing tender kisses, and I think she’s a very lucky woman to have found him.

I chop an onion to bits before I realize I may have cut it too fine. I hope Doc’s turkey calls for tiny onions.

“You know,” he adds in a wistful voice, “I had to do a lot of begging to get her to have Gio and Manny.”

“Really?” I ask. “I’m glad you convinced her.” But then an uneasy feeling settles in my stomach. My mom, this incredible, loving woman, had to be talked into having my brothers? All this time I’ve gotten the impression she loves kids.  

“It wasn’t easy.” Doc sets the turkey in a large roasting pan and turns to me. “She thought she didn’t deserve them after what she did to you.”

The potato in my hand hits the floor with a thud, and I mumble an apology to Doc as I scurry across the floor and catch it before it rolls under the island counter. As I stand up and wipe dirt on my apron, I can feel Doc’s gaze on me.