“Gotta go. Hope your dinner goes well.”
Keller’s voice is garbled by static for all of two seconds before I hang up the phone and head back to the table.
“Look at you, artist.” Clem beams when I compliment her. The colorful swirls aren’t anything specific, but she’s proud of it, anyways. So am I.
“She’s got an eye for it,” Liliana says. “Is that why you were late? Grabbing her from her lessons with Picasso?”
I laugh away the stress lingering from my father’s phone call. “My cousin’s car got towed way out of the city and he won’t be back for a while. His wife is out of town for work, so they asked me to grab Clem after school and watch her until he comes back later tonight.”
There isn’t a world where I would say no to Heath’s request. Besides spending time with Clem, I get the chance to introduce her to Liliana.
And possibly use this leverage when I propose my plan.
Liliana nods, uncrosses her legs, and crosses them again. I follow every movement too closely.
“You could’ve told me, you know. I would’ve been okay cancelling.”
“It’s cool. I wanted you to meet her, anyways.”
The pink shade on Liliana’s shoulders creeps up the side of her neck and into her cheeks. Every time I manage a blush like that out of her, it feels like another five years gets added to my life span.
Clem doesn’t give me time to appreciate the sight, saying, “Ice cream.”
“No ice cream.”
Liliana laughs. I’m glad she thinks we’re amusing. My niece smiles at her, and it’s all falling into place. Making sure they get along was the first step of the night. Now is the perfect time to act.
“I have an idea better than ice cream.” I wave a hand towards me, Clem following the direction and hopping off her chair. Smirking in challenge at Liliana, I motion at the door. “Let’s go.”
She doesn’t move. When I nod to the exit a second time, she points hand at her chest. “Me?”
As if I’d be talking to anyone else.
“What’s better than ice cream?” Clementine asks, impatiently kicking her foot at the sole of my low-top sneakers.
“I’m going to show you.” Reaching over to Liliana’s tote bag, I open it and motion for her to start packing up, but don’t try to do it for her. She has an order I’ve noticed she goes through, a certain placing of every item to keep herself organized. It’s another nudge at her bag and an amused smile before she finally starts putting things away.
“It’s a school night.” Responsible, grade-oriented Liliana doesn’t fail to remind me, even when she’s meticulously lining up her notebooks.
“It’s not even seven.” Maybe a little past seven, but who’s checking? “Besides, didn’t you turn in your second draft yesterday?” The hazel in her eyes dulls. I’m sure she’s criticizing herself in her head again, and I refuse to let her fall deeper into it. “It’s one night. You don’t have an assignment due tomorrow.” It’s a guess, but she doesn’t protest, so I must be right. “And you deserve some fun. Don’t you think?”
Liliana pauses while carefully wrapping her phone charger to stare at me. My grin stretches wider. With her, silence is still an answer, and I know what it means.
“It’ll be fun. I promise.”
fourteen
GRANT
I wishI thought about the car ride. I didn’t consider what it would be like weaving through the streets of Boston, glancing at my passenger’s seat and seeing Liliana there again, highlighted with streetlights and shop signs.
The sun has set. Dusk covers the defined features of her during most of the ride, but there are breaks, where Boston’s glow lets me see sprinkles of her freckles. The small, heart shaped earrings that were hidden behind her hair before she tucks it. This angle of her smile, one that’s different than what I see across a café table or textbook.
It’s the quickest twenty something minutes of my life before we pull into the parking lot I’ve watched deteriorate and be reborn again throughout the years.
“Putt-putt!” Clementine cheers from the backseat, and I chuckle. This isn’t the first, or the tenth, time I’ve brought her here, but she gets excited every time.
“Kristian’s?” Liliana asks and I nod while searching for a parking space. While guessing what we could be doing andwhere we were going, neither of them predicted Kristian’s Mini Golf.
