Page 35 of Along Came Amor
Besides, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t getting something out of this arrangement too. A night’s reprieve from the crushing weight of his responsibilities to have incredible sex with a smart, beautiful woman who made no other demands on him or his time? Some would say he was living the dream.
So why did part of him wish she’d make a few demands other thandon’t call me?
The fact was, it didn’t matter if she was using him to get over her ex or not. She’d been clear from the beginning where she stood. And it wasn’t like he had the time or inclinationfor anything more either. She was right to clarify the terms between them.
Still, he wasn’t ready to let her go just yet.
“Stay tonight,” he said, even as he worried he was coming on too strong. “My schedule is clear until morning, and then I can arrange for you to be driven home.”
She tilted her chin and gave him a long look. Then she smiled, and it was like the sun breaking through clouds after a heavy rain, filling him with warmth.
“Yes,” she murmured. “I’d like that.”
There was no reason why that should’ve made him so happy.
But it did.
Chapter 9
It was Ava’s thirty-third birthday. The magical night Ava had spent with Roman at the Dulce Flor a week ago seemed light years away. She stood at the sink in her grandmother’s kitchen in the Bronx and tried not to scream.
Over the course of her life, she’d managed to accumulate a number of impressive skills. She could manage a classroom of twenty-five sixth graders, navigate Manhattan traffic like a seasoned cabbie, and crochet with her eyes closed.
One thing she could not do?
Stop an eighty-one-year-old woman from harassing her about marriage.
“Abuela,” she said, smiling through clenched teeth. “It’s been nearly two years. Hector and I are over.”
Her grandmother, however, was not to be deterred, and she brandished a wooden spoon for emphasis. With her diminutive stature and red lipstick, Esperanza Rodriguez looked like a Boricua fairy godmother, one who could turn overripe platanos into stretch limos and chancletas into high heels—but instead of glass, the shoes were made of ceramic and had the date of someone’s cousin’s Sweet Sixteen scrawled along the side in metallic gold marker.
“Yo sé,” Esperanza said, despite the fact that she clearly did not seem to know. “Pero I was visiting my sister and we saw Gloria sweeping outside, so we went over and she said—”
At the sound of her ex–mother-in-law’s name, Ava squeezed the sponge so hard every drop of soap exploded onto the dishes.
“You don’t have to tell me,” she said, her voice as tight as her grip. Considering she’d only run into Hector a week before, she could well imagine what Gloria had said. After all, Gloria had said it to Ava herself a number of times.
Por favor, nena. Take him back. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.
Even now, anger seared through Ava’s veins. As ifshehad been the one to leave him instead of the other way around. As if Hector simplyhadn’t realizedhe was throwing away a ten-year relationship, like he was a child who’d accidentally given away his favorite toy and needed his mommy to retrieve it.
Esperanza scowled and banged the spoon against the side of the pot, startling Ava out of her memories. “Ay muchacha, no seas difícil.”
Ava shut her eyes, remembering Roman’s words.Something tells me you’ve never been difficult a day in your life.
Not according to Esperanza Rodriguez.
“Déjalo, Espie,” Ava’s grandfather Willie said from his seat at the counter, where he flipped through the pages ofEl Diarionewspaper. The expression on his lined brown face was mild as he raised his cafecito for a sip. “No habalamos de Hector, cariño.”
Ava bit back another scream. Damn her cousin Sammy for singing the song fromEncantoanytime someone brought up her ex. Now “We Don’t Talk About Hector” was going to be stuck in her head all freaking day.
Since she didn’t trust herself not to break something, Avaabandoned the dishes and opened the fridge to retrieve a head of lettuce. The door of the refrigerator was covered with photos of Esperanza and Willie’s children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. Ava’s high school yearbook photo had once held the central place of honor under magnets shaped like vejigante masks, but it had been shifted over to make room for theBuzz Weeklymagazine cover announcing Jasmine and Ashton’s engagement.
The oven door squeaked as Esperanza checked on the pernil. The aroma of slow-roasted pork filled the kitchen, comforting and familiar. Alas, Esperanza’s criticism was also all too familiar.
“¿Pero tú sabes qué?” her grandmother went on. “These days, you don’t need to be married to have children. ¡Soy progresiva!”
Great. Esperanza was moving on to her other favorite topic: Ava’s childlessness. Instead of rolling her eyes, Ava slipped on her Resting Pleasant Face.
