“It’s a great event to learn about the latest trends and to network,” I say. “But it’s more about making impressions than actively job-hunting. Suggest staying in touch rather than offering your resume right away.”
“Oh, duh.” She taps her forehead with the heel of her hand. “That’s a really good point.”
“It’s a lot to navigate when you’re just getting started,” I say with a reassuring smile. “If you ever want to talk through strategies or need a sounding board, you can call me anytime.”
“Thanks, Lexie.” Her expression fills with genuine appreciation. “I’ll take you up on it.”
“Now you have a big sister looking out for you too.” Eva smiles, patting my knee. “Do you have siblings, Lexie?”
“No, but I have two best friends who are like sisters to me.”
“Ah.” She lifts her glass in a small toast. “To the family we choose.”
I raise my glass just as Val appears in the doorway, his affection for his wife plain on his face. “Dinner is ready.”
She returns his soft gaze. “We’ll be right there.”
After thanking me again, Sophia goes off with him, leaving me alone with Eva.
Curious, I ask, “How long have you and Val been together?”
“Forty years,” she replies, linking our arms and guiding us back. “We met when I was twenty-four. I was teaching Spanish at the elementary school here, and that summer, I traveled to Spain to immerse myself in the culture. I found this little restaurant—the kind that looks like nothing special on the outside, but the atmosphere and food have you coming back for more.”
“I know the type,” I say, entranced.
“Well, Val was the dashing chef there, so that didn’t hurt.” Her eyes are alight with the memory. “We became friends first, but it grew into more over the month of my stay.” She glances toward her husband, who is wearing oven gloves and handling a baking tray. “For three years, we managed the distance until he moved here to marry me.”
“That’s so romantic.”
Eva squeezes my arm. “Maybe your visit will be just as life-changing.”
Her words hang in the air as we enter the busy kitchen. Chaz seeks me out. His fingers brush my cheek, and his voice is low and caring, just for my ears. “You okay?”
“Yes. Just a little out of my element, but I want to help.”
He smiles, handing me the serving utensils. “Here, take these to the table, and I’ll grab the salad.”
And just like that, he pulls me into their rhythm. Soon, we’re all gathered around the table. Pretty bowls of briny olives, a leafy green salad, and a basket of crusty bread are laid out ona bright yellow tablecloth. At the center sits the main event—paella, fragrant with saffron and brimming with seafood.
Chaz leans close, showing me the traditional way to eat it straight from the large copper pan and how to scrape up the crispysocarratfrom the bottom. Conversation flows with every delicious bite, punctuated by laughter and Dice’s stories of their boyhood antics. It’s nothing like the quiet, formal dinners I’d grown up with. It feels like everything I’ve always wanted—that sense of belonging.
After the meal, Chaz is preparing the coffee when he slips me another sweet note.
Smitten, I tuck the small napkin into the sleeve of my dress, keeping it close. I brush a hand over his shoulder in a silent thank-you. He catches my wrist and presses a kiss to my palm as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
As the evening progresses, Val brings out a towering white confetti cake topped with flickering candles. We sing “Happy Birthday,” Chaz’s deep baritone carrying the harmony. Then Sophia opens her presents. She does a happy dance over the gift cards, a pretty diamond star necklace from her brother, and the stack of novels from me. She jokes that she could open her own bookstore.
With their permission, I take pictures, capturing the warm family feels, and they insist I get in there, too. But as the clock ticks toward ten, my pace slows. My thoughts are taking a split second longer like my brain is operating in a fog. I sip mycarajillo, tapping my fingers against the glass mug, keeping myself engaged in the conversation.
I’ve had a great time, and I don’t want them to think I’m bored or ungrateful. But I find my mind drifting more and more—a familiar signal that my social tank is close to empty. Before anyone misinterprets it as boredom, I gather everyone’s attention. “Thank you so much for a memorable evening, the best meal, and incredible people to share it with. I couldn’t have felt more welcome.”
With hugs all around and promises to come back, Chaz walks me to my car, and I use the auto starter to warm up the engine.
“I’m glad you were here.” He takes my hands in his. “Did you have a good time?”
“Yes.” But worry sneaks in, and my impulse is to overexplain and apologize. “I’m sorry if it didn’t seem that way toward the end. After a lot of socializing, even with people who make it easy, I need some time on my own to recharge. I hope I didn’t come across as distant. I’m not always sure how I’m being perceivedwhen my energy starts to deplete, so I thought it best to leave when I did. I’d hate to offend any of you.”
“All that, Blue?”
