It’s been a while since I’ve had a parent around to look after and worry about me. Being in her home makes me miss my parents. They were the fucking coolest. I’ve been thinking about them a lot these days. I wonder if they’d be proud of the way I raised Eden now that she’s pretty much off on her own. I wonder if they’d be happy that I sold the thrift store and am doing something for myself.
I hope so.
“Yes, he certainly knows how to put away food, Grandma. I wonder where it all goes,” Aly says with a laugh.
Her grandma shakes her head at her disapprovingly before turning back to me with a smile, as if I’m the well-mannered child at the table when all I can think about is fingering her granddaughter underneath her quilted tablecloth.
Across from me, Ms. Martinez’s boyfriend, Eduardo—the reason Aly said she had to move out—sits quietly, a contented look on his face. He doesn’t say much, and I’ve figured out by now that he speaks only a little English, but what he does do is watch her grandma like she’s the best thing that ever happened to him.
He’s attentive. Small touches here and there on her shoulder, the way he refills her drink without her asking, how hishand lingers on her shoulders like it’s second nature. And she looks…happy. Like really, genuinely settled in a way that judging from Aly’s face, she hasn’t seen her grandma like before.
I know I’m coming into this situation late, have no idea what her grandpa was like before he left Ms. Martinez, but it feels like a good situation all around. Which—after everything I know about Aly’s past, about the three generations of women in her family who have been let down by men—might be difficult for her to witness.
That realization knocks into me hard.
Maybe she’s wonderinghow does someone who’s been burned so many times, hurt so badly, just…let go like this? Find someone new and believe it’ll be different this time? Let down their guard enough to welcome them into their heart and home?
And just like that, I feel like I understand Alessia better.
“Thank you for lunch,” I say, setting my fork down. “Gotta say, this is way better than what I had planned. Which was nothing. And the company’s been even better.”
Her grandma beams at me, her entire face lighting up like I’ve just made her day. I’m not exaggerating. I’m not trying to lay it on thick. But I like Aly. And by proximity, I like her grandma, too. And that means I want her to like me back for her daughter.
I stand, clear my plate and move to grab the others before Ms. Martinez can. She holds out her hand to try to stop me.
“Let me do the dishes. You made the meal,” I say. “Please.”
"Dios, mijo,what a fineyoung man you are,” she gushes, pressing a hand to her chest, her voice thick with approval.
Alessia sighs softly from next to me. “I’ll help you,” she says, grabbing the remaining plates and silver wear and following me into the kitchen.
The second we’re alone, she spins around to stop me.
“Oh my god, what did you slip in her drink?”
I chuckle, rolling up my sleeves as I warm the water in the sink. I know there’s a drip under here, but it shouldn’t affect washing these dishes much. I propped an empty bowl under it in the meantime to catch anything that escapes.
“Nothing. Is it really that hard to believe that your grandma likes me? I feel like I’m a likable guy. You seemed to like me a lot last night.” I shoot her a wink.
She shakes her head as her face flushes, snatching a dry dish towel from the drawer. “My grandma has never liked any man I’ve ever talked to.Ever. She hated my ex-husband the entire time we were married. When I had a boyfriend in high school, she’d call my mom for daily updates asking if we’d broken up yet. She’s a hopeless romantic when it comes to herself, but for me, she’s very critical of my partners.”
“Maybe she’s just a good judge of character,” I say with a shrug. “Doesn’t sound like those guys were right for you anyway.”
I rinse a dish and scrub it clean, placing it on the drying rack beside me for her to pick up.
She plucks it from the rack, her pretty nose scrunches like she’s thinking about what I said. Fuck, she looks beautiful today in those tight leggings hugging every inch of her wide curves. She smells like heaven, too. Having her stand this close to me is a distraction.
“Gabriel, I don’t think you understand. She hates tattoos.” She states it as if it’s a fact before storing the dry dish in the cabinet.
“She didn’t seem to mind mine,” I counter, grabbing the next plate from the sink.
She rolls her eyes, but there’s something in the way she presses her lips together that tells me this conversation isn’t just about her grandma. She’s clearly working through something. I wonder if that something is her own feelings that have started togrow for me.
I hope it is.
“She falls too easily,” she mutters, her voice softer now, like she’s admitting something that might be true for her too. A part of her that she got from her grandma that she’s always seen as weakness. “She…” she trails off. “She’s a hopeless romantic. That can be dangerous.”
I rinse the soap off another plate and pass it to her this time. Our fingers brush. I smile. She twists her lips to the side like she knows I did that on purpose.
