Page 116 of Wishing for La Luna
Luna’s wearing a fitted turquoise dress that clings to her curves, framing her like a goddess—thediosathat she is.
Tito
Sel said L went to hang out with that guy at her place.
That was the text that sent me into a crazy rage and brought me here, outside her building, like a fucking stalker.
Then another text comes in from my cousin.
Tito
He’s not there. He just dropped her off and left.
I barely read the text when I get out of the car and cross the street.
A couple is coming out of the building, and I ask them to hold the door. The man’s about to ignore me, but the woman’s mouth drops when she sees me. Then, she smiles, and I recognize one of mySirenaswhen I see one. We pose for a couple of photos, and they let me inside the building. The woman even uses her key fob to let me up on the elevator.
In front of Luna’s apartment, I knock on the door.
The footsteps echo, and the light in the peephole changes, but she says nothing.
“Let me in.”
She still says nothing.
“I can hear you breathing. Come on. I just want to talk.”
“It’s not a good time, Riomar.”
I lean my forehead against her door. “Abreme. Por favor.”
The deadbolt clicks, and the door swings open. She’s still wearing the dress, and God, the photos are nothing compared to the real thing. The color is more vibrant in person, and her perfume is bold with dark fruit and rosy notes. It inundates my senses and I want nothing more than to bury my face on her neck and run my nose over her whole body.
“Wow.Que bella te ves.” Even as I say them, the words don’t sound quite right. “No, you’re breathtaking.Una diosa.”
“Rio…” She shakes her head, turns on her heel, and walks into the open-concept apartment. It’s different from the place she shared with her mom. This is more modern, like her bedroom, with a lot of space between the pieces and a table decorated in a style that the professionals insisted on for my places here and in the Dominican Republic. Behind the green sofa is a large, framed photo of the view of the coast of Samaná. It’s one of the photos she took from the hill. It makes me smile.
“It looks beautiful.”
“What are you doing here?” The anger rolls off her in waves.
“How was the wedding?” I ask.
“Great. Mami is super happy.” She smiles, and her body relaxes. “She was so nervous.”
“How long is she going to be away on her honeymoon?”
“Six weeks. They’re doing the trip and then going to DR after.”
“You won’t be with her for Christmas. That’s going to be weird, right?”
She’s not asking me to sit. We’re standing like two boxers waiting for the bell to ring.
“Yeah, we are not used to being away from each other for long, but we were going to live separately anyway. Well, if she had it her way, I would have already moved into their house, but they need their privacy as a couple.”
“So do you.” The second the words are out of my mouth, I wish I could swallow them back, because a light switches in her eyes, and they go from soft to sharp to murderous.
“Yes, I need my privacy too.” She throws the words at me in the same cutting tone.
