Closing the group chat, I select the thread with Eva and stare at the messages we have sent each other. I’d invited her to dinner to talk, to plan, and if I’m honest, to be near her again. Now that the Florida weekend is officiallyhappening, we need to be on the same page. We’ll be spending a lot of time together, and we’re supposed to look like a couple in love. That means hand-holding, hugs, lingering looks… maybe even a kiss or two.
Me: Can you come around six? I’ll have dinner ready for you.
My fake girl: Sure. Please tell me you’re making tostones.
Me: It’s a surprise. Come hungry.
My fake girl: Okay.
Putting my phone in my pocket, I keep working on the quotes and permits that I have to complete before next week. When I look at the clock, it’s almost time to head home, so I step out of my office and call out to Payton, who’s glued to her screen with her big ass headphones on.
“Do you need anything from me before I head out?”
She shifts her headphone. “What?”
I grin. “Girl, if something bad ever happened, you’d be the last to know. I asked if you need anything from me before I go?”
She laughs. “Nope, I’m good. I already sent the quotes you finished today. Tomorrow you’re at the McGee’s house, right?”
I nod. “Yeah, we’re starting their back deck remodel in the morning. I’ll probably swing by the office after we’re done. We should be finished by three, if all goes well.”
“Got it. I’ll call or text if anything comes up.”
Giving her a thumbs-up, I head out, already thinking about the dinner I’m planning.
Dinner formy girl.
Mygirl. Really?
I shake my head as I pull into the supermarket parking lot, but I can’t help the smirk that spreads across my face at that thought. Once inside, I pull out my phone and call the only person who knows the real magic behind my favorite chimichurri sauce.
“Mami, what do I need for the chimichurri again? I always forget.”
Her sigh is immediate. “Esteban, how many times do I have to tell you the ingredients?”
“I know, Mami. I should write it down. Just text it to me—again—and I swear, I’ll put it in a notebook this time.”
“Está bien,” she says, grumbling lovingly. “Te amo, mi nene hermoso.”
“Yo también te amo. You’re the best.”
“Sí, sí, sí…” she mutters, but I can hear her smiling.
I hang up and push a cart. Seconds later, a text from Mami comes through: a picture of a handwritten note on one of her floral notepads, the corner smudged with sofrito stains.
Parsley, garlic, olive oil, red wine vinegar, oregano, crushed red pepper, salt.
I smile and mutter,Gracias, Mami,as I make my way through the produce section, tossing a bunch of fresh parsley and a couple of garlic heads into the cart. Then I grab a red onion, some limes, and tomatoes for the salad. I'm halfway to the meat section when I remember to circle back for plantains. Can’t forget the tostones, Eva specifically asked for them.
At the meat section, I scan for the churrasco cuts, picking out two thick ones, marbled just right, and wrap them up like they’re something sacred. They kind of are, I don’t mess around when it comes to good skirt steak. Then I make a quick detour to the frozen aisle to grab a pint of cookies and cream ice cream. Don’t ask me why, but it’s the one dessert I never get tired of.
As I make my way to the checkout, I spot a few familiar faces. That’s Honey Springs for you, you can’t go anywhere without running into someone you know.
“Hey, Esteban!” someone calls out. It’s Mr. Odom, the high school gym teacher, grabbing a six-pack and a frozen pizza.
“Buenas, Mr. Odom. You eating like a college kid again?”
He laughs. “Only way I stay young, son.”
