“Should I expect her to come home this evening?” Alma asked, all prim and proper like she was Grace’s chaperone.
Rafael didn’t know what to say to that. This was just as weird as Grace’s had always feared, but Alma would get used to it. She had to. “You’ll have to ask her that,” he said. “Thank you for saying whatever you said to her. I know this must be strange for you.”
Alma grinned, softening slightly. “It is, but I know it must be strange for you, too. Don’t you dare hurt her, though, Rafa. I mean it.”
Rafael rubbed his hand against his jaw. “I know you do. But maybe you could tell her not to hurt me, too?”
“What are you guys talking about?” Grace asked as she glided into the room. She was wearing a tight black dress and her hair fell across her shoulders in a way that made Rafael want to reach for it on instinct, but he forced himself to refrain. At least for a little while.
“You, of course,” Alma said, switching to English.
Grace scrunched up her face. “What about me? You better be nice to my date, Alma.”
Alma spun on her heel toward him. “He has nothing to fear from me if he behaves himself.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior,” Rafael said. “Don’t worry.”
In an instant, Alma was in his arms, pulling him into a hug. They weren’t exactly a hug-giving, sentimental kind of family with the kind of patriarch they had to deal with, so Rafael almost stumbled backward with surprise.
“I want you to be happy,” Alma whispered in his ear.
“I am,” he replied.
When Alma pulled away he looked over to Grace to find her watching them with wary eyes.
“She didn’t even make any death threats,” Rafael assured her.
“I didn’t,” Alma confirmed. “I’m being very supportive.”
“Okay,” Grace said skeptically before pulling Alma into a hug of her own and heading toward the door. She didn’t touch Rafael at all, not yet, but something glimmered in her eyes that managed to put air in his lungs, filling them until his chest puffed up.
“These are for you,” he said, handing her the flowers. Grace’s expression could only be described as suspicious. “What? You don’t like flowers?”
She tilted her head at him. “I do.”
“Then what’s the problem?”Flowers were a typical gesture of affection, right?
Grace glanced at Alma. “I don’t know. I just wasn’t expecting this. It’s…romantic.”
Rafael’s words expelled from his lips in a rush. “You don’t sound like it’s romantic. You sound nervous. You wanted me to take you out on dates and take things slow, so here we go. First date.”
Grace pushed her hair behind her ear. “I know, but you don’t need to go out of your way. I mean, just be you…”
Rafael rolled his eyes. He’d thought he was doing exactly what she wanted. “I am being me. I can be romantic, Graciela.”
“I know that.”
Alma was watching them from a stool near the kitchen. “You guys are bickering like this is your one hundredth date.”
Rafael narrowed his eyes at her for a quick moment before turning toward the door. “Ready?” he asked Grace.
She handed the flowers off to Alma and followed his lead. “Ready.”
It was everything it was supposed to be. The restaurant was gorgeous with aromanticambiance and delicious food. Grace held his hand when they wove past the bar and over to their table. She smiled at him from across the table. But despite everything going according to plan, something felt off, like she wasn’t entirely herself. This was supposed to be their first date, but he knew her, and he knew that something was wrong.
“Good wine,” she said.
He nodded.
