Still.
She thought about it throughout the reading, and was still thinking about it hours later, sitting out in the gazebo and looking up at the sky. Lipa in December was no joke when it came to cool breezes, so she’d grabbed one of her new Christmas presents—a soft, sage green woven blanket her mother bought her from a trip to Ilocos—and wrapped it around her body for warmth. That, and the little tub of milk chocolates she made, was her only comfort.
“Hey,” a voice behind her said, and she looked up to catch her older brother, Kiko Luz, still wearing leather boots, jeans and a bomber jacket like it wasn’t nearly midnight. Kiko’s cheeks were slightly flushed with the breeze, but his skin was tanned from a recent trip to the beach with his boyfriend. “You still up?”
“You still wearing shoes?” Kira teased, wiggling her toes at him from behind her fuzzy tsinelas. “Also, I should be mad at you, chismis-ing about me like that with our parents. Traitor.”
“Oh. So youdidhear that,” he said, and her brother at least had the decency to look guilty as he sat across his little sister. Kira tucked her toes under his thigh and glared at him. “You weren’t supposed to.”
“I wasn’t?” She gasped, her voice dripping with sarcasm, waving around the hand holding the piece of milk chocolate. She was biased, but she thought it really was helping comfort her. “I know I technically haven’t been inducted into the post-dinner chika club like you have, but I can hear everything you guys talk about. In fact, I have since I was a kid. Which was how I found out that Ate Kamilla was moving to Singapore, and how I found out that you and Kuya Jake were together, even though I was the one who told him about you at the wedding.”
She didn’t mean to sound bitter, but it was a symptom of the bunso to always be the last to know anything, and there was nothing she could do about it. Parents tended not to notice there was one kid missing when they were a couple of glasses of wine in, and the chika just flowed out.
“So, yeah. I wasn’t supposed to hear that Mom and Dad are worried that I’m never going back to Manila, and that I gave up too easily on my dream job. I wasn’t supposed to hear that setting up the Laneways, pouring my time into it, was just because they didn’t know what to do with me.”
Kiko opened his mouth, but Kira wasn’t done.
“And I wasn’t supposed to know that they have their doubts about my idea to open a chocolate shop,” she said, frowning at Kiko. “I’m not complaining, by the way. Thank you for the job—I mean, sorry, the distraction.”
“Hay,” Kiko sighed, pressing his thigh over Kira’s toes, rolling his eyes when Kira tried to squirm her toes away, because she didn’t exactly love saying all of those things out loud. He held out a hand for chocolate, and she grudgingly handed him a square.
“Mmm,” Kiko said, after he took a bite. “You know, this is really good.”
“I know.” Kira sighed. “I’m shockingly good at making chocolate. And I have a friend who’s getting married, and he wanted me to make gift boxes for his ninongs and ninangs.”
“Let me guess—”
“I matched them? Yes I did.” Kira nodded. “Art directors are fun if you manage to find out that they’re into art world gossip. Nida from the gallery in Karrivin was perfect for him, okay?”
“You found a wife for the guy who recommended against your dream company retaining you.” Kiko chuckled. It sounded bad when he said it like that, but Kira was okay with it. It had been three years since she lost the job with the company she thought would make her truly, professionally happy. But that dream hadn’t panned out. Time to move on to another. “Iba ka talaga.”
“See, that’s the problem,” Kira sighed, picking up another square. “I’m the youngest, I’m...me, so no one takes my ideas seriously. You see this?” She held up the chocolate, which, although shiny, was starting to melt between her fingers. “I made this with cocoa nibs from Davao. Imagine what a cacao bean fromBatangaswould taste like, Kuya. I have a feeling it will be amazing, and I can see myself making it happen. And in order for me to do that, I need to do all of these other things, set up a shop, open a business and it’s not great to hear that your own family doesn’t think you know what you’re doing.”
“Do you?”
“Of course I don’t!” Kira grumbled. “Did you, when you started your firm?”
“No,” Kiko admitted, and she gave him a look that was all “see!”
“You know when you frown like that you look like a kid.”
“I’ll always look like a kid to you guys.”
“Mom and Dad just don’t want you to get hurt again,” Kiko told her, and he looked away, like admitting it was hard for him. See, feelings were hard. But the darkness helped. The cool breeze, the rustling of the trees helped. The chocolate certainly had something to do with it, too. “You were so upset when you lost the job at Serendipity. And we all thought it was your thing, you know? You’re the sister that does the art thing.”
“Now I’m the sister that makes chocolate. The sister that watches over the Laneways.” Kira sighed, dropping her shoulders. “I thought Serendipity would last forever, too. But it didn’t. Now I feel like I’m being led to this new dream, Kuya. And it’s exciting to me. I’ll do it with or without the family’s help. But I really wish you guys would get on board, because I want you to be part of my life, because I love you guys. Even you.”
“I’m shocked,” Kiko said wryly as Kira wriggled her slippers under his thigh even harder. “If this is what you think you’re meant to do, then you should pursue it, Kira. If you dream of making a Batangas chocolate, think it’s worth giving up your condo in Manila, worth dropping everything and pursuing...then you should do it.”
A love that time will lie down and be still for,she thought, and it made her smile. It seemed that the universe still had her back. And much like Kiko, was vehemently agreeing with her.
Kira looked up at the twinkling parol, uncertain, but already excited about what was to come.
“I think I will,” she told him.
Chapter Three
December 22
