Page 39 of Along Came Amor
It was his mother Dulce’s birthday and this was the only time he—well, Camille—had managed to carve out from a day packed with meetings. Camille had scheduled all of them to take place at the Dulce Flor in Times Square, and now he was squeezing in a midday pedicure with his mother at the hotel spa.
He’d gotten the idea for a mother-son spa date from Ava, of all people. Not that she was talking to him—he was abiding by her “no communication” rule, even though he chafed at the limitation. He wasn’t sure if he was more frustrated by the boundaries she’d set or the fact that he was tempted to cross them.
Don’t text her. Should be a simple enough rule to follow, right? But he found himself wanting to reach out multiple times a day. And not just about sex either.
Like now. While Ava hadn’t directly suggested he go with his mom for a pedicure, she’d helped him recognize the value of spontaneous free time with people he cared about. And he wanted to tell her about it.
But he couldn’t.
Beside him, the other frustrating woman in his life sat with her feet wrapped in some kind of pink substance. Since she couldn’t get away, Roman took the opportunity to broach the topic of her imminent move.
“How’s the apartment search coming along?” he asked.
His mother didn’t look up from the copy ofBuzz Weeklyshe was flipping through. “Bien.”
Thanks to her many years working at a nail salon, Dulce had a deep appreciation for gossip magazines. And now that she’d retired, one of her favorite pastimes was to get her nails done by someone else.
“I can put you in contact with my real estate agent,” Roman offered.
“That’s okay.”
“Mami, I—”
She pinned him with a look. “Who do you think found all the apartments we lived in when you were young? Who do you think found the house Keith and I bought in Queens?”
Shit. He’d offended her. “All right, but there’s no rush, and you’ll still have your rooms in my apartment if you ever want to come back.”
She cut him off with a shake of her head. “It’s your space, you should use it how you want. Mickey and I have already taken up room in your home for too long.”
Roman’s gut felt hollow at the reminder. Not only was his sister going to college and his mom moving out, but Mickey wouldn’t even be coming back during her breaks from school.
“How is the book coming along?” Dulce asked.
Roman bit back a groan, but gratefully accepted the change in subject. “Not well.”
“I don’t see why. You wrote all the time when you were a kid.”
“That’s because my friends were paying me to do their homework for them.”
She gave a dismissive shrug and didn’t look up from the magazine. “Bueno, we all have to start somewhere. Put it in the book.”
Roman wasn’t sure “cheating on homework” was the best thing to admit in a book about successful qualities in business, but he did have to start the manuscript somewhere, and he was short on ideas. He jotted down a note in his phone.
Dulce turned a page and let out an exclamation. “¡Mira pa’ allá! It’s your friend.”
Roman peered at the glossy two-page spread. His old buddy Ashton Suárez smiled up at him from a red carpet photo. Ashton wore a slick black suit and at his side, his fiancée Jasmine Lin was decked out in a red strapless gown. They looked stunning, every inch the Puerto Rican power couple who’d taken Hollywood by storm.
“Ay, they look so beautiful,” Dulce said wistfully. “Have you heard any updates about the wedding?”
Roman shook his head. “Not since they asked me to be the best man. They’ve been busy.”
“Did they set the date at least?”
“August. At the Bellísima in Condado.”
Dulce made a judgmental noise in the back of her throat. “August wedding in Puerto Rico? It’s going to be hot.”
He shrugged. “It’s when their filming schedules allow it.”
