“¡Hola, Mamá! I’m home.”

“Mijo, it’s so late. I was worried.”

“I know. That’s why I called you. Twice.”

“Yes, but the worry doesn’t leave until you come through that door.”

Adrian leaned over and pressed a kiss to his mother’s forehead. She had always told him that his kisses kept the wrinkles away, so he’d made it a point to kiss her anytime he came or went since he was a child. He’d keep her forever young if he could. She was the only parent he had left. When she passed, he’d become the official head of the family. Just the idea of her being gone snapped his throat shut, so he pushed it ruthlessly away. He could still make her smile with a simple kiss, so he would take every opportunity to do so.

“What’s for dinner? I’m starving.”

In a routine as familiar as his own face in the mirror, he took off his work boots by the front door and walked into the tiny bathroom off the kitchen to scrub the day from his hands and face. By the time he’d worked the grime and sweat from his pores, his dinner would be hot and waiting for him on the table.

The comfort of this routine soothed him after his rough run-in with Sofia that afternoon. He’d thought they were making progress, but then she’d wanted to change everything while the stupid cameras were rolling. They’d spent the rest of the afternoon arguing. He didn’t know why the cameras put him on edge, but they did. He hated the feeling that he was being watched. Probably a holdover from his childhood of being told to put his head down, obey, don’t cause trouble. But it hadn’t made a difference in the end. His father had still gotten caught up and hauled away.

He’d have to find some way to make it up to Sofia. In hindsight, he realized she was probably scrambling to cut money from her design budget after his bombshells. Why hadn’t she said something about it at lunch? Because he’d scrambled her brain. He allowed himself a small smile over that particular victory. He would make amends. He’d won the bigger battle that day.

He strolled into the kitchen and dropped his exhausted body into his chair.

“Mmm, pollo en mole. Mamá, you’re the best.”

“You deserve the best, mijo.” She bustled around the kitchen, putting food away, packing plastic freezer bags with the leftovers, moving pans to the sink. Though his sisters had all moved out now, his mother still cooked like she was feeding a brood of four hungry teenagers. She couldn’t seem to scale down her recipes, so the neighborhood benefited from her abundance. Since Adrian knew the creation brought her pleasure, he was happy to spread her wealth to his friends and neighbors. As long as he got his plate first.

“Come! Sit and eat with me.” He tugged her down into the chair next to his, knowing she’d likely eaten at five o’clock when the food had been ready. “How was your day?”

“Oh, you know. I talked to Mahalia today.” His older sister called almost every day since she’d moved up to Oakland with her husband, Rey.

“How’s the baby?”

“So sweet! Look how big he’s getting! She sent me pictures.” She pulled her smartphone from her apron pocket to show off his only nephew. As the first grandbaby, every moment of Jeremiah’s life was being documented. Today’s pictures featured a red face and tears.

“He looks less than happy.”

“Still not sleeping well. Poor little guy.”

“Poor Mahalia. She’s never done well on little sleep. Remember high school?”

“Trying to get that girl out of bed…”

“Do you want to go up there for a couple of days to help out?”

“No.”

No explanation, just no. Same as every other time he asked if she wanted to get out of the house. When his dad had been taken, she’d stopped seeing friends, afraid of who she could trust. She’d let her driver’s license lapse, and had gradually stopped doing the daily errands that had filled her day with familiar faces and routine. While his sisters had lived in the house, there had been more than enough hands to get the job done. But since his baby sister was living on campus, it was all falling on his shoulders, unless one of the older girls dropped in to help. He would keep trying to encourage his mother to get out more, but if the lure of her first-born grandchild wasn’t enough, he doubted he’d succeed. When was the last time his mother had used the front door?

“Marielena picked up our groceries while she was out today, so you don’t need to stop tomorrow.”

Adrian cringed. Marielena was a good friend to his mother and often included her in her daily errands, but he hated imposing.

“I told you I’d do it, Mamá.”

“Don’t fuss at me. She offered, and I’m making my arroz con leche before her mother-in-law comes next week. It’s fine. How was your day?”

“Ugh. This show is going to kill me. Demolition took twice as long as it should have, and Sofia showed up with changes to the plan. So we had to film all of that as well. I had to explain why we tore up the floor five times!”

“Sofia?”

“She’s done the interior design and remodel plans for this one.”

“I thought she just did the paperwork.”

“She does, but she does designs, too. I don’t know how well it’s working out. She seems to be in over her head, and the budget is spiraling.”

“She’s a good girl, that Sofia.”

“Mamá, don’t start. You’ve never even met her. What makes you think she’s so good?”

Even though the Valentis had extended invitations to his entire family for summer company picnics and winter holiday parties, attending would require his mother to leave the house, so he’d always gone with his sisters. While his mother knew everyone he worked with by name and reputation, she’d never met them face-to-face.

“She drives you nuts. She must be smart and strong to stand up to you and get what she wants.”

“She’s also the boss’s daughter.”

“Bah! Love is love. When I met your father—”

“You married him in three weeks despite Abuela warning you not to. I know, but I just talked to Dom about buying into his company. I don’t want to do anything to rock the boat.” That was part of why he hadn’t pushed for more of her time outside filming. He was going slow, because he knew it could all blow up in his face. They’d managed a few flirtatious private conversations, but it seemed like her private time was increasingly scarce.

“Boats always rock, especially if you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Mamá!” Adrian covered his ears and laughed. He couldn’t deny that it was getting harder and harder not to think of that aspect of things with Sofia. The woman turned him on by breathing. Before his mind could travel down that well-worn path, he was pulled back to the present by his mother’s voice.

“Well, I’m glad you finally talked to Dom. You deserve to own part of that business.”

“Thanks, Mamá. We’ll see what he says.”

“He will say yes. And then you can date this Sofia.”

“Enough meddling! I’m going to watch the game upstairs.” He rose and put his now empty plate in the sink. “Do you need anything before I go up?”

“No, mijo. Go relax. Te amo.”

“Te amo tambien, Mamá. Good night.”

He trudged up the wooden stairs to the second floor addition he’d added to the bungalow five years ago. His mother would check the locks, pick her books to read in bed with a cup of tea, and be in for the night. This had been her routine for as long as he could remember. He’d go down later and double-check the locks before he fell asleep, just to reassure her, but other than that and meal times the main floor was all hers.

Needing to escape his sisters, he’d built the second story apartment for himself. Dating while still living in a house with three teenage girls had been awkward at best, and there was only so much noise he could take.

His retreat came complete with a balcony and outdoor access, though he rarely used it. But it was nice to have if he wanted to come and go unnoticed, or if they ever needed to rent the place.

Given the way his mother worried when he left the house, he made a point to let her know when he was leaving, so his private door stayed locked most days. Although he’d sponsored her green card, she was terrified that someone was going to come and take her away to a Mexico she barely remembered. All four of her children had been born in the US, but still she worried that the government would ignore that and send them away, or that the police would shoot first and ask questions later, or that they would be victims of a violent crime… Her list of daily anxieties was endless. And Adrian knew them all, because he did his best to talk her through them every day.

Never leaving the house only exacerbated her fears about the big, bad world. Adrian did his best to respect those fears and let her know where he was and when he was leaving. The home-cooked meals waiting for him didn’t hurt to reinforce the habit either. He could have moved out a long time ago, but this arrangement worked for everyone. His apartment had everything he needed, and he saved money by not paying rent since he owned the house.

He walked in his door and eyed his comfortable brown leather recliner with longing. It had been the first piece of furniture he’d ever bought on his own, and it was perfect. Comfortable and durable, it accommodated his long frame easily. He’d arranged it the perfect distance from his flat-screen TV. He turned on the A’s home game against Texas and grabbed a beer from the minifridge he’d installed in his efficiency kitchen before heading back to finish cleaning up. Now, the bathroom he’d added up here was a different story. Efficiency was not a word that applied to this space. This was his retreat. Being able to escape sharing a bathroom with his sisters and design it to his specifications had been a double bonus.

He placed his beer on the tile shelf in the corner of his travertine-clad shower and turned on the water to heat while he stripped down. The tankless water heater he’d installed made that wait quick, and he grinned with pleasure as he stepped beneath the rain showerhead. The water beat heavily on his head, massaging away the stress of filming, the aches of demolition, and the frustrations of having to keep his growing feelings for Sofia in check. He sipped his cold beer in a steaming hot shower and let his cares flow down the drain. There were few pleasures in life better than this. He sudsed his hair briskly, enjoying the scratch and the feeling of clean before turning his attention to scrubbing away the dust and plaster from the rest of his body. Switching the spray over to the side jets, he scrubbed himself clean with his bar of soap, ready to relax and fall asleep in front of the TV.

Although he’d built a functional bedroom/office space, most nights he fell asleep in his perfect recliner, too sore to move and too tired to care. There certainly wasn’t anyone luring him into bed. He was free to do as he pleased. Why did that detail, which his married friends envied, always make him so sad?

He shut off the water and thought about that. Since he’d gotten honest with Sofia about wanting her, he’d begun to notice the places in his life where she wasn’t. His once-solid normal now felt full of Sofia-shaped holes.

He dried off and tugged on a pair of gray sweatpants and a T-shirt he’d worn down to nearly threadbare perfection. He snagged his second beer and sat down in his sacred chair, ready to just be still for a while.

And then his phone rang.