She giggles at the idea. “God, no.”
“Then what’s up with the secrecy?”
“It’s … complicated.”
“You’re being weird, you know that, right?”
“Yes, sorry. It’s very different from the other guys I’ve dated. I’m just trying to do things the right way.”
“You do you, babe. But I really want to meet him.”
“Soon, I promise.”
I have in mind to harass her a little when Mom returns to the room to announce we’re eating. We all move into action, knowing how my abuela gets when we don’t respect the meal she spent all day preparing.
As we walk to the dining room, I discreetly ask my mom, “So, what do you think of Lex?”
“My grandchildren will be beautiful.”
“¡Por dios, Mamá!It’s an obsession!” I scold, seeing her cheeky smile too late.
“I’m teasing you,pollito. He seems like a very interesting man.”
“He really is.”
MC is setting down a beautifully glazed lamb leg in the middle of the table when we arrive. “Alexander,mijo, you’re here,” my mom instructs. “Andrea, you’re next to him. Mi amor, you go here with me. Mamá, you’re there. Where are Rafa and Kate?”
“They’re right behind us,” my dad says.
“I’ll get them,” I offer.
“Don’t worry, they’ll be here any minute.”
“It’s okay, I forgot my phone, anyway.”
As I approach the living room, I hear Kate giggle. When I pass the door frame, my jaw drops. Kate and Rafa are hugging tightly, his hand resting on her jean-clad ass, her arms thrown around his neck. It takes Rafael bending to kiss her for my brain to finally understand what’s happening.
This is why Kate won’t tell me about her mystery guy. She’s dating mybrother.
I can’t hold back the mix of rage and disgust that takes over me as I utter, “What the fuck?!”
Chapter 33
Everything smells divine, and although I’m a little worried about the spice level of the various dishes, I’m eager to try the food that Andrea’s abuela cooked. I’ve heard so much about it that I crave to taste everything on the table. And there’s a lot. Food seems to be another love language in a family that has many of those.
Maria Carmen sits beside me, and I bend toward her to say, “It all looks delicious, ma’am.”
“Cariño, you can call me Abuela, Maria, or MC. But I’m not ma’am to you.”
From what I know, she’s about my father’s age. But she’s so dynamic and lively that one could hardly guess. And while Andrea doesn’t look much like her parents, I see a lot of her in her abuela. The same witty sparkle in her eyes, the same height, and the same inner strength.
“I can’t wait to try your food,” I explain. “Andrea speaks of it a lot.”
“I tried to teach her, but she was hopeless.”
“She has many other strengths.”
“And she got them all from me,” Maria Carmen says with unmasked pride. “I was a lot like her, but I had a great body and flawless skin—the freckles, she got from her papi.”
