As soon as we woke Catalina up that morning, walking in together hand in hand, something shifted between us. Manny left for work, but when he came home late that afternoon, he asked me to stay for dinner. One day turned into another, and before we knew it, we fit into each other’s lives seamlessly. We took turns going to my house and then his. We made s’mores over the fire pit in his backyard, under a blanket of stars, laughing together and stealing kisses like lovestruck teenagers. We took walks after dinner together with Catalina swinging between us, much to the disappointment of the women in his neighborhood, who were obvious fans. But Manny wasn’t too upset. In fact, when they looked his way with hopeful smiles through ridiculously bright red lipstick, he slid his hand possessivelyover my ass, leaving it there for his admirers to see and dislike me a little bit more.
I caught one of the women making snide comments, but he smirked, unaffected and uncaring of their attention. I couldn’t help but bite back a grin about his public display of affection, especially regarding his female groupies. They could look all they wanted to, but he was mine. We had dinners together on the deck overlooking the lake, wine after Catalina went to sleep, and a sleepover at my house, which led to lots more of us exploring each other on every piece of furniture in my room and the shower, before falling asleep tangled in one another. We were never together this way at his house. Yet.
Tonight is the first time I will be staying over. No more lingering looks, or long-winded goodbyes, wishing I didn’t have to leave. Catalina asked Manny if we could all go to a movie on Friday. I work most Saturdays, so that’s out of the question. Nothing gets by that girl. If you tell her something, she won’t forget, so here I am, waiting for Manny to get home after work on a Friday so that we can make the 6:30 feature.
Every day, Catalina asked if it was Friday yet, and every day this week, I told her, “Not yet, pickles.” So when I told her, “It’s Friday!” her face lit up, and we broke into a bit of dance right there in the kitchen, spinning and laughing, both of us too excited to keep still. Catalina was happy to go to the movies with me after that story about my father. I’m just happy to be able to share that with her, and in turn, remember a good time in my life with my parents.
I try not to think too much about the end of August lurking around the corner. I am trying to enjoy the moment, but I see it slipping away, knowing that this is a temporary situation and I’ll soon be leaving for college. I’ve spent every waking day with them, holding hands and cuddling around campfires. Caring for Catalina during the day when Manny is at work, then dinner together, and now going out like a family tonight seems more than a temporary situation. It feels like another step forward, just to have it all end? Maybe I should have a conversation about what happens at the end of August.
I hear Catalina jump off the couch with athudas she spins around, running to me. She grabs my arm, shaking it. “He’s here!”she shrieks, peering through the window as she whips the curtain back in place at the sound of Manny’s truck door closing. She’s been staring out the window intermittently for the last fifteen minutes, waiting for her father to pull into the driveway. Manny bounds up the front steps, and I barely have time to calm her down before he opens the door to find Catalina jumping around and ushering him in.
“Hurry, Papá!” she cries, grabbing his lunch box from him and pushing him toward the shower. She hands it to me, and I can’t help but stifle a laugh at her bossiness. “Go change, or we are going to be late!” He casts me an amused look as I blow him a kiss behind Catalina’s back. As I unpack the lunch box, I freeze. There’s only two items inside. I pull out two pre-packaged pickles, taking them out and placing them on the counter. Catalina scampers over, grabbing them with a squeal. “He got them!” She dances, clutching the pickles to her chest like they’re the most precious gift in the world.
I swallow hard against the lump rising in my throat, knowing that I shouldn’t be emotional over a fucking snack, but it’s not the snack, it’s what it means. It’s the fact that Catalina told him about the story with my dad and how, even though he worked all day, he still stopped to get us this for our first movie together, just like I planned to do when we got there. It’s more about the fact that he remembered and cared enough to do so.
I try to fight the urge to ugly cry at the kind gesture. I blink away the moisture blurring my vision. “Did you tell your dad the story?” I ask, humbled by the action.
She nods, her smile infectious. “I did, and he said he was going to get them for us so we could share a happy memory of our own, Ms. Nadia.” I drop to her eye level and pull her into a hug.
“Thank you, pickles.” I rub my nose in her face, and she giggles. “That was a very nice thing to do.”
“You’re welcome, Ms. Nadia.” She pulls back and runs toward Manny’s bedroom. She is about to throw herself into the door, but Manny opens it, catching her mid-push.
“Woah there, mijita.” He picks her up and twirls her around. Her chuckles erupt into a fit of laughter, and I can’t help the smilethat spreads across my face, too.
Manny grabs his keys from the counter, his gaze landing on me, still standing there holding the pickles. He watches me carefully, like he’s searching for something in my face, a reaction of whether it was a good idea or not to do it. I grab a Ziploc and a few napkins, throwing them into my purse. “Thank you for these,” I say softly. He doesn’t speak, just nods and extends his hand out, taking mine.
“Are you finally ready to go to the movies?” Catalina asks, as Manny and I shout “Yes!” in unison. We look at each other smiling, as he squeezes my hand, locking the door behind us.
We walk to the truck and after strapping Catalina into her booster seat, he hops in and starts the vehicle. “So…” he begins, hesitating with his hand on the steering wheel, looking guilty as sin. He pulls out of the driveway, still thinking. Catalina and I exchange looks, both of us wondering what’s happening. “Okay, ladies, hear me out,” he says, glancing over at me as he takes my hand in his, and his thumb traces lazy circles across my skin.
Catalina groans from the back seat. At the stop sign, instead of turning right toward the cinema, he turns left, heading in the opposite direction. “I thought maybe we would try something a little different tonight,” he begins, but it is cut off by the whines that escape from the little girl in the back seat.
“Papá, you promised we were going to the movies.” She crosses her arms over her chest, ready to fight it out with that irresistible pout of hers that has her daddy melting and giving in. I look back and witness what I can only imagine her teenage years will look like in about ten years, inwardly groaning at the thought.
“Yes, mijita, I did, but I thought we would do something much better.” Her eyebrows lift, just like her father's do, and I can’t help but laugh at the similarity. Manny glances over at me, and I shrug. “Not helping,” he mouths. I clear my throat.
“So that sounds interesting. What did you have planned for us instead? Is it a surprise, Manny?” I look at him expectantly, flicking my attention to Catalina, who is now somewhat intrigued, and so am I.
I bite my lip, unsure if I overstepped. I hope I was giving him exactly what he wanted by helping, stepping in when he neededbackup. When he looks over at me, his eyes catch on my mouth, lingering there a second longer than necessary, and when his eyes lift to meet mine, I brace myself for his reaction, expecting frustration, but what I see instead makes me pause. His eyes soften, and he mouths, “Thank you.” His gratitude shows in his eyes, as if he truly appreciates my help with Catalina. Honestly, I don’t know how to unpack that, so instead I avert my gaze, focusing out the window as he starts explaining to Catalina where we’re headed.
Twenty minutes later, we pull into the Harbour Playhouse. The building looks like a red barn, surrounded by twinkling lights that reflect off the lake’s edge. He shuts the truck off and comes my way to open my door and help Catalina out of the truck. Our footsteps crunch on the gravel as we walk up to a poster with the words ‘Now Showing.’ A little girl with a broad, toothy smile and a red bow in her hair is front and center, along with the title of the show. “Matilda?” I look at him, surprised. He smiles and takes our hands.
“Come on, girls.” He tugs on our hands, leading us in. “Let’s enjoy the show.”
When we returnto Manny’s house, it is well past Catalina’s bedtime. She fell asleep in the back seat of Manny’s truck, her little cheek resting on her hand, mouth parted. Manny opens the door quietly, lifting her out of the truck with ease, and cradling her against his chest as he carries her into the house. I walk ahead of him, opening the front door and guiding them into her bedroom. Pulling back the covers, I help peel off her little sneakers and slip her into soft pajamas. Manny places a kiss on her forehead and walks toward the door as I bend down to kiss her, too, in a similar fashion. When I look up, Manny’s standing just outside her room, watching me with an unreadable expression. He holdshis hand out without a word, and I slip mine into his, tugging me gently toward the kitchen.
I stifle a yawn and move to get my bag ready to sling it over my arm when he stops me, removing it and placing it back on the counter. “Where are you going, mi cariño?” He pulls me closer, his hands sliding up to cup my face, as his thumb traces my cheek. “I thought you were staying over tonight?” he asks, concern in his eyes, searching mine for an answer he’s afraid to hear. The truth is that I never want to leave. But the words won’t come, so I say nothing.
As I look up at him, there is more showing in his eyes than a simple good time, and I know that before I leave for school soon, maybe even tonight, it might be the moment to broach the subject with him. The “what happens next” conversation that I hate to have, but I want to know where we stand. “I wasn’t sure and didn’t want to assume,” I tell him honestly.
He brings his lips to mine and pulls away just enough to whisper, “Let’s go to my room.”
He picks up my bag, flinging it over his shoulder, and I fight the giddiness and nervousness I feel as we walk hand in hand to his bedroom. The one that, not so long ago, he told me he never brought women to. As I look around, I notice that his room is simple, but comfortable, and the lighting is warm and inviting. He places my bag on the chair in the corner, as I take in the surroundings. Despite taking care of his daughter, I always respected his privacy. I was told to never come into his room or his office, and I have kept his requests, respecting the boundaries he has set.
He walks over to me and pulls me into his arms, running his hand along my sides. He grabs my shirt and lifts it off in one swift tug, tossing it onto the floor behind him. He lowers me onto the bed, as I sit back on my forearms, hoping to admire the view above me. He strips his clothes off without even looking away and it is the most provocative striptease I’ve ever encountered as he leans forward, fully naked with his cock bobbing in invitation. He pushes me back and pulls off my pants, tugging them off along with my thong and dropping them from his hands. He crawls forward, as I scamper upward, hoping to give him more room,but he halts my movements, straddling me. His cock hits my stomach as a bead of precum leaves a sticky trail on my chest. I lick my lips, needing to taste him as I run my finger over the tip, feeling the wetness coat my fingers. He watches my movements with a heated stare as I bring it up to my mouth and lick the saltiness from my fingers. His eyes burn with the intensity of my actions, causing him to push my legs aside.
I grab his arm, halting his movement. “Manny, please,” I say, and he looks at me.
