“What?” I asked.
She wiggled her fingers. “I got crumbs all over me.”
I grabbed the napkin from my bag and handed it to her.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, wiping her hands. Then, after a pause: “Tía, do you have a boyfriend?”
I blinked. “What?”
She looked back up at me, her eyes bright with curiosity. “Do you have a boyfriend?” she repeated.
“Where is this coming from?”
Lucia shrugged. “Mommy says people should have someone to take care of them.”
“She tell you to ask me that?”
Lucia shook her head. “No. I just wanna know.”
Finally, I said, “No, I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“And why not?”
“Because I don’t want one.”
Lucia frowned. I guess that answer didn’t make much sense to a kid—not to the kind who believed in charming princes anyway.
“But who buys you flowers?”
I smirked. “I buy my own flowers, kid.”
She wrinkled her nose. “That’s not the same.”
I didn’t argue. I didn’t tell her that most of the men in my life weren’t the kind who bought flowers. They were the kind who made women disappear when they talked too much.
Or the kind who stood too close. Watched too carefully. Told you to stay out of trouble while pulling you into it at the same time.
I thought about Marco then.
I hadn’t seen him since the party a week ago. Since he’d put me in his car and told me to make better choices. Since he’d looked at me like he was trying to figure out why he gave a damn at all.
“Tía?”
“Yeah?”
“Will you take me for ice cream?”
I sighed, glancing at my watch. “It’s cold, and it’s late.”
“But they have hot chocolate too.”
I looked at her little face—at the hopeful way she was staring up at me.
And against my better judgment, I smiled.
“Fine.” I stood, brushing crumbs off my lap. “But don’t tell your mom I let you have sugar this late.”
Lucia grinned. “Promise.”
