Chapter Fourteen
Late Friday afternoon Tomás set his briefcase on the kitchen counter with a tired sigh. Rush hour traffic drained even the best of men.
“We’re in my room, Papá!” Maria’s voice carried down the hall from the back of the house. “I’m showing Ms. Rosa my Barbie dolls. Come play with us!”
Now that was a demand he could easily give in to. He strode through the living room, ready for some together time with Maria before he headed out for the evening.
Tonight was his first date with Cheryl Morgan. He had enjoyed chatting with her during the class party, then again one day when he’d picked up Maria after school because Yaz had been waylaid at the dance studio. He knew Yaz was matchmaking. Thankfully, he’d also learned enough about Cheryl to recognize that his temporary nanny might not necessarily be looking at her “fabulous” best friend through rose-colored glasses.
He’d be lying to himself, though, if he didn’t admit he was a bit nervous about potentially having to sit through another disastrous date. When he’d gotten Yaz’s text earlier, letting him know Rosa would be staying with Maria, he’d read it with mixed emotions. Partly relieved Yaz wouldn’t be waiting for him when he returned home from an evening with another woman. Partly disappointed she wouldn’t be there to send him on his way with some flip remark about not blowing it right out of the gate with her best friend. Her sassiness kept him on his toes, and he wanted to be on his game when he picked up Cheryl.
“Hello, ladies,” he greeted as he stepped into Maria’s doorway. “How’s it going, Rosa? Thanks for filling in tonight.”
“Oh sure, I’m glad I could help.” She worried her lower lip before adding, “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. You’re doing me a favor, remember?” He pushed away from the door frame to shrug out of his suit jacket. “Mi casa es su casa.”
“Gracias.” Rosa spoke softly, her mouth curving up in a shy smile. The marked difference between her quiet, reserved personality and Yazmine’s bright lights, big-city confidence must have made life quite interesting for Reynaldo when his girls were growing up.
“Papá, can you help me get this dress on my Barbie?” Maria held out a dark-haired doll with a scrap of shiny purple material stuck around its shoulders.
“Here, mama, I can do it.” Rosa’s nimble fingers made short work of the task. She obviously still knew her way around a Barbie, something Tomás’s large hands couldn’t seem to grasp.
“I can’t remember the last time I played dolls,” Rosa told Maria. “Thanks for letting me join you.”
Tomás hunkered down near them in front of the pink and white plastic two-story dollhouse. “I got the condensed version of why you had to fill in tonight. What’s Yaz up to again?”
Rosa slid over to make room for him on the princess-crown throw rug. “Jeremy called to say he’d won tickets to a concert in Chicago. Pablo was visiting, and when he said he’d keep Papi company, I told Yaz I’d sit with Maria.”
“I think I would have volunteered to take Yazmine’s ticket instead.”
Rosa smiled demurely and ducked her head. Her shoulder-length black hair fell in a wavy curtain to hide her face. “That would have been fun, too, though I think Jeremy wouldn’t enjoy my company as much.”
“Oh, somehow I doubt that.” Rosa might be quiet, but last weekend he’d seen firsthand the feisty side she kept hidden most of the time. He doubted any moment with a Fernandez sister would be dull.
“I never apologized for my behavior the other night. After the recital,” Rosa said, her expression an endearing mix of discomfort and guilt.
“Are you kidding? You don’t have anything to apologize for. You girls are dealing with a lot. Better to let it out than to bottle it in and wind up blowing like a volcano at the wrong time.”
“Bueno, I think I blew like a volcano last weekend. And I shouldn’t have done that in front of you and Jeremy.”
“It’s all good. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
He grasped her hands as she struggled with shoving a pair of ridiculous-looking plastic high-heeled boots on a Barbie. “I’m serious. And Jeremy seems pretty close with your family, so I doubt he minded either. Thanks to how Yazmine and your dad have stepped in to help with Maria, I feel like they’re family now. That includes you and Lilí, too.”
“Gracias.” Rosa murmured the word, her gaze coming up to meet his briefly before dropping back down to the doll.
“As for you not going to the concert . . . Jeremy would be a bum if he didn’t have a good time with you, Rosa,” Tomás said, giving her jeans-clad knee a quick squeeze. “And he doesn’t strike me as a bum.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear, offering him another one of her Mona Lisa smiles.
He winked back at her. “I think I heard a wise woman tell you recently not to sell yourself short.”
Rosa wrinkled her nose much like Maria did when she didn’t care for something he said. “Don’t you dare let Yaz hear you call her wise. She’ll never let the rest of us hear the end of it!”
Tomás laughed. “There’s the feisty Rosa I saw last weekend. You need to let her out more often.”
“I think you have a pretty smile, Ms. Rosa,” Maria added.
“Gracias, spending time with you makes me feel happy.” Rosa ruffled Maria’s hair playfully.
“Yes, she does have a pretty smile, chiquita. And so do you.” Tomás dropped a quick kiss on top of Maria’s head, then stood. “I’m going to wash up before I leave for dinner. You girls need anything?”
“No, we’re good,” Rosa assured him. “I’m ordering Luigi’s pizza and I don’t have any other plans, so don’t rush home.”
Luigi’s. Merely hearing the restaurant’s name made him think of Yaz. The last time he’d eaten there had been that Saturday they’d run into each other at the dance store. Ironically, he’d found out yesterday that Cheryl’s mom owns Center Stage. It was almost like he’d come full circle.
That day at Luigi’s he’d known Yaz was a special woman. Since then his opinion hadn’t changed. If anything, he was more certain now that she was one of a kind. Too bad she was also the leaving kind.
“Cheryl’s a nice girl, by the way,” Rosa said, her words stopping him in the doorway. “I hope it works out for you.”
“Thanks, we’ll see.” He wasn’t committing to anything, but he hoped this date went better than the one he’d had with Janet Miller. God help him if it somehow didn’t.
“Are you coming to the parranda tomorrow night? Our caroling party is a holiday tradition for Los Paisanos.”
“I haven’t decided yet,” he answered.
“You should come. It’ll be fun. We start the caroling at Pablo’s house with drinks, move to André’s for appetizers, on to José’s for dinner, and finally to our house for desserts and more drinks. Lots of music, dancing, good food, and friends.”
He caught a flash of Yaz’s sassiness in Rosa’s inviting grin. “Sounds like a long night for Maria. It depends on whether or not I can get her to take a nap.”
Not to mention whether or not he felt up to being around Yaz. Watching her dancing with someone else, laughing with her friends while he tried to keep his distance. Hell, it sounded like a long, stressful night if you asked him.
“It’s really fun, and it’ll mean a lot to Papi if you join us.” Rosa’s smile faded, a hint of the sadness she hid welling in her eyes. “It’s probably his last parranda, so we’re not shutting down until he gives us the sign.”
“We’ll see.” Tomás took a backward step toward his room.
“Seven o’clock at Pablo’s. One of us will text you the address, and you can invite Cheryl. Though Yaz probably already has anyway.”
“Maybe,” he hedged. Rosa drove a hard bargain, but he wasn’t one to be swayed easily.
“I’ll tell Papi that I reminded you about it. He’ll be excited to see you and Maria.”
Tomás laughed at her determined expression, a hint of self-satisfaction tingeing her smile. Man, the apple did not fall far from the tree in Rey’s family. Rosa may not have Yaz’s flair or Lilí’s energy, but her father’s strong will lay within her, too.
“Okay, okay, I give in. Let Rey know we’ll be there.”
He closed his bedroom door, chuckling at Rosa’s “Yes!” of satisfaction.
* * *
“So how’d it go with Tomás tonight?” Yaz tucked her cell phone between her ear and her shoulder, shimmying out of her jeans and into her flannel pajama pants.
“Girl, it’s nearly one o’clock in the morning,” Cheryl grumbled in a sleep-heavy voice. “Why are you calling me?”
“Because I just got home from the Harry Connick Jr. concert with Jeremy, and I wanted to get the dirt from you.” Yaz hopped onto her bed to sit cross-legged under the covers.
“We’re too old for this.”
“Bite your tongue!”
Cheryl snorted in response.
Yaz grinned, sensing her friend was about to give in. It’d been a while since they’d sat on the phone sharing first-date details. It almost felt like old times. Almost, because in the past, Yaz had never had the hots for any of Cheryl’s guys.
Now she tried to squelch her misgivings over hearing about Tomás’s night out with her best friend. They deserved to be happy. That’s all Yaz needed to remember.
In the grand scheme of things, her feelings couldn’t matter.
“Tomás is an amazing guy,” Cheryl said.
Of course. Yaz already knew that. “And?”
“Aaaand, we had fun.” Cheryl’s tired yawn punctuated her response. “The conversation was nice.”
Nice? Yaz shuddered at the lame description. “That’s it? Did dinner include dessert, or drinks, maybe a nightclub after?”
“Oakton isn’t really hopping with nightclubs, Yaz. For a first date, I enjoyed it.”
Yaz leaned back against her headboard, pulling her covers up to her chest. Her idea of living vicariously through Cheryl wasn’t working out so well. Not with her friend’s lukewarm response. “Did he ask you out again?”
“Actually, he asked about the parranda tomorrow, well, tonight now, seeing as how it’s already early Saturday morning . . .”
“Don’t be an old lady. You’ve called me later than this before.”
“Yes,” Cheryl said through another yawn. “But usually not when you’ve got to be up at the crack of dawn to catch a flight for a friend’s bachelorette party.”
“Ooh!” Yaz winced, her cell phone nearly slipping off her shoulder. “I completely forgot! This is that girl you roomed with your junior and senior years at Southern Illinois, right?”
“Uh-huh. ’Member, I planned to drive down after work today. But when Tomás asked me out I checked and got a good deal on a last-minute flight. Flying makes my trip easier. Though I didn’t think about you calling for a play-by-play in the wee hours of the morning.”
“Sorry.” Yaz felt bad for waking Cheryl, but not enough to wish she hadn’t called at all. “So you can’t make the parranda, but did you two set another date?”
“We’re playing it by ear. By the way, seems I’m not the only one who has a way with kids. He raved about how much Maria loves spending time with you.”
Yaz squeezed her phone to her cheek, Tomás’s praise warming her heart. “I hope you didn’t spend your dinner talking about me.”
“No, not really.” Cheryl’s voice was groggier. She was fading. Then again, she’d always been the first to nod off when they had sleepovers as kids. “He’s sure impressed with you. And Maria talks about you a lot at school. She’ll miss you when you head back to New York.”
The last part was somewhat distorted by Cheryl’s loud yawn. Still, Yazmine got the gist of it and her forced excitement over hearing Cheryl’s date details faded.
Yaz sank lower under her covers, cushioning the phone between her ear and her pillow.
Maria might miss her when she was gone, but someone else, maybe even Cheryl, would take her place. Sure, Maria would think of her fondly, but she wouldn’t feel the same keen sense of loss Yaz knew awaited her when she arrived in New York, alone. She wouldn’t wish that misery on anyone, especially not this sweet little girl.
Tomás was right to shield Maria from feeling abandoned. He’d gone through that when his wife had walked out on them.
“You still there?” Cheryl asked.
“Yeah, I’m here.”
Tomás wanted to ensure that Maria was in good hands. As far as Yaz was concerned, Cheryl’s were perfect.
“Maria’s an angel,” Yaz said. “You’re gonna love her.”
“I’m sure I will. But I gotta go now.”
“Have fun on your trip. Give me a call when you get back. And do lots of fun stuff I wouldn’t do at the bachelorette party.”
Cheryl snickered. She mumbled her good-bye and disconnected.
Yaz turned off her lamp, then rolled over in bed.
As her eyes drifted closed, she wasn’t thinking about life as a dancer in New York. Instead, she was remembering evenings with Tomás and Maria, helping them practice the father-daughter dance in his living room, laughing at his missteps, cheering his successes. The nights she and Tomás would drink a glass of wine and chat about their day. She sharing something funny Maria had said, he going over ideas for the Linton ad campaign, asking for her opinion. Dancing with him in front of the fire, kissing him in the snow, losing herself in his embrace downstairs in her kitchen.
The memories flowed through her mind. All memories she’d cherish when she left. Because they were all she could have.
* * *
Two a.m. and the parranda was in full swing. People of all ages milled about the Fernandez home. Drinks flowed. Countless glasses of coquito, the rum-imbued, coconut and creamy Puerto Rican version of eggnog, were still being toasted. Quesitos and an array of other delicious pastries and finger foods filled the dining room table. Music blasted from the basement.
Tomás figured as long as the neighbors were participating in the revelry, there wasn’t any worry about a noise complaint being called in to the cops.
Standing near the bottom of the basement stairs, he took in the scene before him with awe.
Despite the late hour, Los Paisanos had been persuaded to play a few tunes for their fans. Really, it hadn’t been difficult to convince the men to pick up their instruments and treat the guests to an impromptu show.
Watching Reynaldo at the microphone, his guitar in his arms, his smooth voice serenading the crowd with a story of romance and life well-spent, lent a heartbreaking note to the evening. The love and pride tinged with sorrow on Yaz’s and her sisters’ faces was agonizing to watch. Damn if Tomás’s admiration for those girls didn’t inch up another notch.
He lasted through several of the trío’s songs, but the crush of people and the uncomfortable knot of sorrow in his chest forced Tomás up the basement stairs. He slipped out the back door, braving the winter weather for some fresh, albeit frigid, night air.
Snow blanketed the lawn and flowerbeds, weighing down the bushes and the stark branches of the oak trees. He peered up at the night sky, unable to stop thinking about the unfairness of Rey’s situation and the heartache ahead for Yaz and her sisters.
Through the light snowfall, Tomás gazed up at the scattering of stars above him. In the distance one seemed to blink on and off and he recalled something Maria had shared on a trip to the park before the last snowfall.
“When a star winks at you, it’s really an angel saying hello. Did you know that, Papá?” she had said.
Maybe his precious baby was right. Maybe that star up there was Rey’s Marta, letting Tomás know she patiently awaited her lover.
Tomás shook his head. He was being silly. Letting emotions clog his brain.
The star twinkled again. Mocking him.
Who was he to scoff at anyone lucky enough to find an all-consuming love like Rey and Marta’s. Or his parents’. Hell, even his brother’s and sisters’.
The sharp wind gusted, sending a flurry of snow swirls dancing across the yard. Tomás shivered, huddling deeper into his coat.
Laughter seeped through the back door. He peeked in the kitchen window to spot a couple dancing to the romantic ballad. Their bodies pressed close together, they swayed to the sensual beat.
Despite the crowd and high spirits inside, he couldn’t kick this strange desolation lingering within him. Couldn’t get Rosa’s “it’s Papi’s last parranda” out of his head.
Ever since last night, there’d been this . . . this sense of impending doom on the edges of his consciousness.
He’d returned home early from his date with Cheryl, which had gone well. She was friendly. Peppy, but not in a bad way. More like a kid-friendly, energetic kindergarten teacher way.
Maybe no bells or whistles had gone off when he was with her, but he wasn’t looking for that anyway. Cheryl was a nice girl. They had a lot in common. They were both close with their families, both enjoyed living in suburbia, and both were interested in having a family. So what if at the end of the evening he hadn’t felt the urge to kiss her? Everything else with her seemed promising.
Yet, on his way home he’d thought about calling Yaz to chat about how the night had gone. Certain she’d tease him if he admitted the uncharacteristic nervousness he’d felt on the drive to Cheryl’s apartment.
He’d found himself pulling into his garage craving the lightness Yaz’s smile made him feel and her smart-ass remarks that made him laugh.
Only, she was out on her own date, with Jeremy. Not home waiting for him.
Inside it was sweet, shy Rosa who had greeted him in his living room. His disappointment had been sharp. A bittersweet reminder that if he let himself get more attached to Yaz, the prick of disappointment when she eventually left would be much worse.
The wind shifted again and the snowfall increased. Large, fat flakes drifted through the night air. Inside the Fernandez home, the band kicked off another song. Not for the first time that evening, Tomás marveled at the volume. Outside he could hear the music clearly, feel the thump of the bongo drums like a second heartbeat.
He craned his neck to peek at the darkened upstairs windows. Maybe he should check on Maria, make sure she slept comfortably through the parranda’s noise.
Moments later he took the stairs by twos, pausing near the top step when Yaz emerged from one of the front bedrooms facing the street.
A palm tree–shaped nightlight cast a shadowy glow in the hallway. Surprisingly, the strains of music were muffled on the top floor, the mix of voices more like a soft rumble in the night.
Yaz slowly pulled the door closed.
“Is she still asleep?” he whispered.
Yaz jumped like he’d poked her with a live electrical wire. “¡Ay, Dios mío! Give a person some notice next time. You scared the buzz right out of me.”
He grinned at her cheeky reprimand. “Is she good?”
“Out like a light. You’re lucky she’s such a sound sleeper.”
The muted lighting in the hall, mixed with their whispered conversation and the notes of another Spanish ballad drifting up the stairs, lent an intimate feel to their surroundings.
Yaz moved closer, edging around the banister but stopping a few feet away from where he stood a couple steps down. Moonlight filtered in through the front picture window, giving him a better view of the hesitation in her eyes. He frowned, hoping she wasn’t thinking about the last time they’d been alone at her house.
The night she and Rosa had argued after the recital and he’d wound up comforting her in the kitchen. When he’d crossed that invisible line between wanting and taking, again. The last time he’d held her in his arms and kissed her lips, tasted her sweet skin.
“How was the concert last night?” he asked, hoping the reminder of her night out with Jeremy would ease her discomfort. While prolonging their conversation because he wasn’t ready for it to end.
“Ah-mazing.” Her shoulders relaxed and she leaned back against the wall near the steps. “I can’t believe Jeremy actually won tickets on the radio. I’ve been dying to see Harry Connick Jr. for years.”
“I didn’t know you liked jazz.”
“I’ll listen to almost anything. But, Harry? Mmmmm, his voice is like velvet.” Head resting against the wall, she closed her eyes on a sigh.
Tomás crooked an elbow on the banister, enjoying the private moment with her. Their first all week. She’d been fleeing his house the second he walked in the door, off to some outing with her sisters or Cheryl, or to the dance studio to get in a few hours of practice.
“Like velvet, huh?” he repeated.
“Oh yeah. I can never get too much of Harry.” She stepped out of her heels, losing about four inches in height.
He watched her alternately draw a circle in the air with each foot, then she curled her toes into the carpet and lifted each heel. Stretches he’d noticed her go through at night when her feet were sore after dance class.
“Here, sit down a minute. Let me help.” He lowered himself to the stair landing, motioning for her to join him.
The question in Yazmine’s frown tugged at his conscience.
He’d lost count of the number of times she’d put others before herself—to help him, to care for Rey, at the dance studio. She was under a ton of stress and deserved a little TLC.
He could give her that. Wanted to give her that. At least for a few minutes.
Tomás stretched out an arm to hook one of her shiny silver stiletto pumps with a finger. “Your feet are sore, probably from all that dancing in these uncomfortable contraptions you call shoes. Sit down. I’ll give you a free massage for checking on Maria for me.”
And maybe because he was a glutton for punishment, welcoming the opportunity to touch her.
Yaz took her time considering his suggestion. The need to break through the wall wedging itself between them drove him to push more.
“Come on. It’s a special offer. You better grab the chance while you can.” He patted the floor beside him, hoping she’d give in. Afraid she wouldn’t.