Page 4 of Just for the Holidays
“We can figure this out!” Gabi responded, clearly excited. Her old college roommate had always been a little too willing to get up to mischief to get her way. “I think it won’t take much, to be honest. He’s intrigued by the part. Rios is one of his idols.” Perla remembered that, like she remembered every detail about Gael Montez like they were burned into her brain. “Timing is the key here,” Gabi said, bringing Perla’s focus back to the task at hand. “He’s got the next week off before he goes on the Asian press tour for Space Squadron. We’re at the new house in Sagaponack. We got in last night with Tio Manolo, but he took off for the city first thing this morning and won’t be back until Nochebuena.”
Perla hummed in acknowledgment, her matte, blood-red gel tips tapping on the desk as she thought. She’d seen a spread in some magazine about the enormous ten-million-dollar Hamptons mansion Gael had bought for his mother. Not surprising they’d all be there for the holidays.
“What if you call him?” Gabi suggested cautiously. “I know it’s a big ask, but he always trusted your advice when it came to his career.” Perla could practically taste the bitterness that statement brought up. Gaelhadlistened to her, until he didn’t. And despite what she’d told herself a minute ago, she didn’t think she could handle being rebuffed by some assistant. No, Gael owed her this, and if he was going to tell her no, he’d have to do it to her face.
“Why don’t I bring him the script,” she heard herself say, feeling a little floaty from the barrage of feelings the prospect of seeing Gael brought on. “I can tell him in more detail what we’re envisioning for the show. We could even do a reading.”
“Okay, if you’re sure.” Gabi sounded unsure.
“It will be harder for him to turn me down in person,” Perla said, now sounding a bit more sure of herself. More committed to the plan.
“I like it,” Gabi finally answered. “Having you here will force him to consider the role seriously.” Perla’s pulse quickened as blood rushed through her veins. Seeing Gael was not a good idea. But she knew this was the right call. Once he read it, he would want it.
As if she could sense where Perla’s thoughts were heading, Gabi piped up again. “Didn’t Caballero-Mendez write the script?” Gabi asked, prompting a quick yes from Perla.
“Gael’s been wanting to work on something by him for years.” The Puerto Rican playwright had risen to supernova levels of fame after his musical based on the life of one of the US founding fathers had become the Broadway hit of the decade. Everyone wanted to work with him, but he only took on very selected projects.
“Heofferedto write the script for us,” Perla clarified for Gabi, who crowed in response.
“Excelente. Wait to tell him that until he’s got it in his hands,” Gael’s sister suggested with glee. “You’re coming with an offer he can’t refuse.”
Perla had to breathe through the thumping in her chest as she prepared to speak. “Would lunchtime today be too soon?” Perla was already mentally listing what she needed to do before she got on the road. “I’m planning to fly out to Punta Cana late tonight, from Westchester. I can drive out to you before that and be back on the road with plenty of time to catch my flight at 11:00 p.m.”
“Yes! I can make that work,” Gabi was yelling into the phone. “You know he’s a workaholic and already bored to tears with nothing to do. Send the script over now, and I’ll print it out and give it to him. He has all morning to read it.” She made another celebratory sound on the phone and Perla wished she could get some contact giddiness; alas, all she felt was nausea. “I have a good feeling about this, and Mami will be so thrilled to see you. We’ve all missed you.” Gabi said that part in a more subdued—but no less genuine—tone. And maybe this would be a way to prove to herself she was past this. That the heartbreak from years ago was ancient history.
“I look forward to seeing her, too,” Perla said sincerely, and after hammering out a couple more details they disconnected. Perla tried to push down the blizzard of emotions that seemed to hit her all at once. She was nervous. No. She was terrified of seeing Gael again. Not just because of how things had ended, but because she had no idea how she would react to having him in front of her. She wondered if it would still feel like the sun, the moon and the stars were encompassed in his green eyes. If it would still seem like he was the only person in the world who could make her fill up with light.
She reminded herself that she wasn’t that lost girl, who in Gael had finally found someone who could see her. That she had people in her life now, and more important, she’d been working hard on loving herself. And she did; she’d felt more confident in this past year than she could remember. And despite all that being true, the longing she felt for what Gael had been to her was a yawning, undeniable void.
Seeing him was a risk; there was no use in denying it.
This was dangerous, treacherous territory she was threading into. But shewoulddo this. If the old Perla would’ve cowered at the possibility of seeing the man who had broken her heart, this one would toss all that useless sentimentality aside and do her job.
Gael was going to kill his sister. He was at least going to have decidedly strong words with her. The fresca had barreled into his bedroom at barely 9:00 a.m. in the morning with a ream of papers and announced that no one other than Perla Sambrano was coming to talk to him about taking the lead role in the Rios series. Only the most brazen and fearless of people would dare talk to Gael before he’d had his coffee, especially with news he would not be happy about. But Gabi had always lacked a healthy sense of self-preservation. It was the only reasonable explanation as to why, without consulting anyone, his sister contacted his ex-girlfriend and invited her to his house.
And now here he was, standing in his driveway, waiting for the woman whose heart he’d trampled. Gael made no apologies for his choices. He was ruthless in his dedication and ambition—mercenary, his mother would say—and he had no regrets. The only way that a kid from Bridgeport, Connecticut, had been able to achieve what he had in such a short time was because he never let his emotions get the best of him. Even if that meant breaking the heart of someone he’d loved.
Perla had been his sister’s roommate freshman year at Yale. And then she’d become much more than that. In the summer between sophomore and junior year, Perla and Gael had started dating. She’d been the first girl he’d fallen head over heels for. They’d had two almost perfect years. She’d been more than his girlfriend; she was his best friend, his confidante. The person he came to for everything. And when his career started taking off and he’d been overwhelmed and intimidated by the entertainment business, she helped him navigate the new world he’d been thrust into.
It was her playground, after all. Perla had grown up in the lap of luxury. The “pobre niña rica” as his friends sometimes called her. Shewasrich, from one of the wealthiest Latinx families in the country. And she’d always seemed so sad, so quiet. But to him she’d been intriguing, and beautiful.So damn beautiful.She brought out his protective instincts like no one outside his mother and sister ever had. He’d been drawn to her from the first moment, and once he’d actually gotten to know her and realized how brilliant and funny she was—he’d fallen hard.
People underestimated Perla, never seeing the fire hiding under those bland clothes and nerdy glasses. She was always so fastidiously put together. She was fine-boned and small, almost waifish, with big gray eyes he’d felt like he could drown in. And she’d dressed to go unnoticed. Pencil skirts and cardigan sets with ballet flats, in every shade of pastel you could imagine.Cashmerecardigans, anddesignerskirts and flats, but forgettable, almost old-fashioned. But still, she’d been like a beacon to Gael.
Back then he’d been the big man on campus, at least the part of campus that cared about drama majors and theater. He was poised to be the one star from their graduating class. And once all that potential his teachers kept telling him he had actually turned into acting opportunities, he’d had no idea how to handle it. He’d come from humble beginnings, after all. And almost without warning he’d been thrown into a world of wealth and fame he’d felt lost in. He was tough, a hard worker, and he was no dummy. But he’d needed some insight in how to carry himself in that environment, and Perla had given him all the help he’d needed. She’d taught him where to get his suits and who to go to for a haircut. The right place to rent an apartment in New York City and even what car to drive. She’d been his guide in navigating the world of the one percent, and just when he was poised to soar, he’d left her behind.
He still remembered that night. Could even recall the old Yale sweatshirt he’d been wearing. He could smell the microwave popcorn Perla had made for him that was sitting on her coffee table when he walked into her apartment. After days, weeks of him ignoring his uncle’s warnings that his relationship with Perla was hurting his image, it all came to a head when a tabloid plastered a photo of Gael and Perla walking in Manhattan. The headline with the wordsPlain Perlaplastered in red had been Manolo’s smoking gun. Manolo laid into him about how it was better for everyone to end things. That staying together would be bad for his career and would almost certainly be bad for her mental health. That the media was ruthless, and no matter how hard he tried to protect Perla, her connection to him would end up hurting her. So he’d done it. He cut her out of his life.
Six months after their breakup she’d started popping up in gossip websites and on Page Six, jet-setting around the world. The pastel cardigans all gone and replaced with a bolder, more Instagram-ready version of his shy ex-girlfriend. But once her father died, she seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth. Except now she was on her way to his house. And he wasn’t sure how he felt about any of it.
The sound of gravel on his enormous circular driveway jolted his attention back to the present and the car coming toward him. He frowned as a sleek, black Maserati SUV rolled to a stop just a few yards from where he stood. He could feel his forehead scrunching with a frown as he tried to get a closer look at the driver. He’d been expecting a variation on the BMW sedans Perla always drove. Her car choices had always been in line with her modest—for rich people—tastes in fashion. But this was the kind of car you drove to make a statement. He moved closer to it, heart hammering in his chest as he saw the door open.
His plan was to stave Perla off, meet her in the driveway before his mother had a chance to see her, and tell her this was not going to work out. That there was too much baggage for them to be around each other. He moved his feet to reach her car, and even opened his mouth to say it, but once he got a glimpse of her, the words never came. He just stood there, mouth gaping as she slowly opened the door and gave him a full view of the new Perla. This was not the same girl from college or even from those early Instagram posts.
Gone was her usual high ponytail and scrupulously highlighted blond hair. In its place was a raven-black pixie cut that made her big gray eyes sparkle. The winged eyeliner was a surprise, too, and when his eyes drifted down to her mouth, her lips were a cherry red. Perla had never been one to be flashy about her wealth, but if you knew what to look for, you could find it all over her. The vintage Piaget watch on her wrist. The big green Bottega Veneta he recognized from a runway show he’d been dragged to during fashion week.
Everything about Perla Sambrano had always given off old money vibes, but she wore it differently now. There was a boldness to her that hadn’t been there before. And she was certainly dressing differently. She had big gold hoops in her ears and the subdued clothing choices of the past were replaced by a black sweater dress and black faux leather leggings. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed the sneakers on her feet. Perla Sambrano in red sneakers. Balenciaga sneakers, but still.
But as she made her way to him, he saw that her outfit and car were not the only things that were different. She threw her head back to put on a pair of oversize sunglasses and when she saw him, the smile on her lips was not the shy expression from the old days. This was the smile of a woman who meant business.
