He said he’s in love with Gabriella, but maybe she dumped him for good when he said he was marrying me. So he could be on the rebound, but… Is it so bad to savor a little affectionate treatment?
I dry my hair and put on a T-shirt and shorts, then go downstairs. Sebastian is leaning against the kitchen island, checking something on his phone. He’s wearing a gray T-shirt and black shorts. The fact that I know how strong and gorgeous his body is underneath the simple clothes heats my blood.
He lifts his head and shoots me a brilliant smile. My mind goes blank, like a girl lost in the presence of her first major crush.Good Lord, why don’t you giggle and blush while you’re at it?
“Ready for tacos?” he asks.
“Yes.” I’m glad he gave me a simple yes-no question. I’m beyond forming a complex response that’s going to flow logically, not when my emotions are all over the place.
Sebastian drives us. The car’s quiet except for some soft rock he puts on. The surface of my skin seems to crackle in the confines of the Rolls-Royce. Normally, I might try to fill the silence with some polite small talk, but not with him. It’s so peaceful without any words to break the quiet. I realize it’s been a long time since I’ve been with somebody without feeling a need tosaysomething. Even with Bianca, I’m constantly talking.
He pulls into a Manny’s Tacos near my place. It’s after the lunch rush, so the place is more or less empty. The scent of sizzling meat, veggies and warm tortillas lingers in the air. The speakers fill the place with upbeat Mexican music.
The hostess shows us to a table, and I order a margarita. Manny’s has amazing margaritas—cold and strong. Since we’re starving, we also order our entrées without looking at the menu—beef burritos and Coke for Sebastian, and fish tacos with extra guacamole for me.
We dig into chips and salsa. “Okay, spill. Tell me how you almost ended up with the name Tacos,” I ask after taking my first few bites.
He laughs, then shakes his head. “I don’t know if you know this about my dad, but he has seven sons.”
“Seven?That’s a lot.”
“Yeah. And we were all born within four months of each other.”
“What’d your father have, a harem?” I’ve heard of some bizarre stories about Hollywood, but this is really out there.
“Not exactly. But a lot of girlfriends and a vasectomy fail. It was ridiculous.”
“Wow. I can’t imagine. I guess he wasn’t ready for children.”
“Or anything that didn’t fit his lifestyle.”
Sebastian’s judgmental tone doesn’t lessen my empathy for Ted. “But seven kids! I don’t know what I would’ve done in his situation.”
Sebastian shrugs. “What could he have done?”
“You’re right. He’d already made seven babies. I guess prevention was the key here. Anyway, so…the tacos thing…?”
Our server brings out food and drinks. As soon as he’s gone, I look at Sebastian expectantly while biting into my taco.
“My dad isn’t the greatest with names, and he couldn’t be bothered to remember the names of seven kids, so he named us after our moms. Except me. I’m named after the company my mom’s family founded. But to make my case worse, when my mom had me, he stopped by for some reason.” Sebastian makes a face, then chomps down on his food with more force than necessary.
“Why was that so bad?”
“Because while his assistant was listening for what name my dad would give me, Dad said, ‘Sebastian’…then he saw taco wrappings and said, ‘Tacos.’ And the assistant, being the idiot that he was, told the nurse who was filling out my birth certificate that my name was to be Sebastian Tacos Lasker.”
I cover my mouth with a hand, nearly choking on my margarita. “Oh my God.”
“Thankfully, my grandmother caught it and lost her temper. She said no grandson of hers would be named Tacos, and Dad realized what happened. Apparently, he laughed and said, ‘Good thing she wasn’t having sushi. He could’ve been Sebastian Unagi Lasker.’” Sebastian rolls his eyes.
“That’s kind of cute,” I say with a smile.
He looks at me. “Cute? You think that’s cute?”
“He was probably just overcome. At least he made an effort.” My tone grows wistful.
“An effort to be a nuisance.” He sniffs. “I bet your parents didn’t try to name you after food wrappings.”
“Yeah, because they didn’t name me at all.” I flash him a pat smile to let him know it isn’t a big deal, even though thinking about it stings. “My grandfather had already picked it out. Lucien Francis Caesar Peery.”
