I shift back to my side, shoving a pillow behind me. I didn’t give Vita that comfort. I turn on the TV and flip through the channels unsure of what’s even on these days. I settle for atelenovelamyabuelawould watch when she visited. I don’t care if Vita understands. It’s oddly comforting to me.
Vita. Life in Italian.
Why do I call her that?
Because she could hold my life in her hands?
Because thoughts of her monopolize my life now?
Because she could be the love of my life?
That last thought is disturbing enough to make me want to jump off the bed like it’s ablaze.
Be real. You knew you wanted her from the night you met. You wouldn’t have called her chiquita if you didn’t. Your instinct could’ve been wrong, but you haven’t stopped calling her that. You know what it means to the men in our family.
No man in my family calls a woman that unless she’s “the one.”
I’ve had weeks to consider how irrational that is. Hell. I spent the entire flight to and from Belize weighing my options. She’s determined to refuse me, and I’m determined to make her mine—without keeping her tied up to do it.
Days in syndicate life are like years in a normal person’s life. When you have to decide whether to live or die in a matter of seconds—when how fast you can draw a gun or knife determines the rest of your life—the luxury of days and weeks is a rare gem.
“Lost in thought?” Her voice surprises me because I was.
“No. Getting caught up on my favorite show.”
She chuckles. “You are drawn to melodramatics.”
I shoot her a wry smile. “Hardly.”
She raises her hands and looks over at the bedside table.
“That was practicality.”
“Mhmm.”
I place my hands behind my head much like I did when I sat in the chair. I contract my abs as I cross one ankle over the other.I’m the picture of overindulged ennui. The playboy I’m often accused of.
“When will you let me go, Alejandro?”
“When I get bored. Shh. My show’s on.”
Five minutes pass before she raises her hands and points to a man on TV. “He’s going to get slapped before the end of the scene.”
“You understand Spanish?”
“I don’t have to, to know it’s nearing the end of the episode, and no one else has been.”
“Ouch,chica.Such stereotypes.”
I haven’t even finished the last word when an actress hauls back and lands a ringing slap against the guy’s face.
“Hmph.”
It’s not like it was unexpected.Novelasusually have at least one physical confrontation. It’s also no surprise when the couple falls into each other’s arms for a passionate kiss. Vita and I turn to look at each other at the same moment. Art reflects life.
When did you become a man of so many clichés?
When my life turned into one.
