Two hours later, I’m in the kitchen helping cook dinner. After the really intense and emotional moment between Grey and me triggered by my little breakdown, I couldn’t face him. Call me a coward all you want; if I had looked into his eyes for more than a beat as I thanked him, I know I would have lost all my control and done something I would have liked in the moment…but regretted when I returned home. It would wreck what’s between Noah and me, and that was already hanging on by a single thread.
In this house, in this country, everything is just a dream of sorts. Meeting his family, him being more open to me, flirty, humorous, just like how he was when we started out—it’s not going to last. When we get back to Miami, he’ll be cold and reserved. I’ll go back to feeling like a corpse walking. And I will have two of the most important guys in my life hating me: one who is meant to be my whole future of perfection and check off every bullet on my list, and another who was my first friend at college, a foreign, scary place, but turned into one of my best friends and has always been there for me.
However, when it came time to have their support and full trust…they failed me and acted as if I were some dumb, crazy, obsessive girl. I was no longer their Liv who did her best to feel something when kissed by another. I was no longer their Liv who was by their side with their boyfriend in pajamas watching 80s romance movies or used their shoulder to cry on when complaining about the boy with cold black eyes but the warmest heart. I was Liv, who got up and sought to help a person who she would give all she possessed to make sure he was sane and not taking out his anger via a fucking gang. I was Liv, the girl who put all her previous feelings for said boy aside and jetted to another country to be his god damn support system.
But I guess they wanted their Liv who was weepy, depressed, and drowning herself, taking too many pills to stop feeling, and needing their protection and was just so fucking broken! Too bad I can’t be that Liv anymore. I need to get closure with Grey. I want to close this door, so I can be the final product of myself—Liv: the girl who goes to college, and attends poetry slams, and smiles at nothing in particular, and is able to breathe, because it’s just the easiest thing to do. And even if they hate me because of it, I will strive to be that girl, no matter what. Even if it kills me, anything has to be better than walking around like you’ve lost a huge part of yourself.
“Liv, can you help me dice the tomatoes?” Alma asks, and I stop draining the rice.
I nod and respond, “Of course.” I ask Isabella to take over, and when she does, I walk over to Alma. “How many do I dice?” I let my eyes sweep over the large amount. Normally this would be way too much, but considering the massive family grouped in the back, I actually don’t think it’s enough.
“All of them,” she answers.
I pick up the knife beside her and begin dicing the tomatoes. I hum to the beat of the festive song that wafts through the open windows into the kitchen. The atmosphere is laid back and really calming. I love how loud everyone laughs in the back and how well the cousins get along, teasing each other and even throwing a few playful curses at each other. I try my best but fail to contain my amusement when Alma curses at them to stop cursing.
Oh, Grey’s family. You gotta love them.
Alma nudges my forearm as I move on to the onions, seeing she could use some help.
“You are good with the knife,” she says and raises questioning eyebrows.
I shrug and tell her, “Louise, my caretaker, taught me how to cook at a very young age. I once cooked a meal for her, me, and her daughter when I was twelve.” I smile proudly at the memory of me standing on my tippy toes to preset the oven.
“That is wonderful—” she praises.
“It smells so fucking good in here,” a rather loud, obnoxious voice sounds from behind us.
We turn around and find Grey and Mateo walking in. That was fast. A little while earlier, they left to play basketball down by the playground about ten minutes from here, claiming they were bored out of their minds.
They are matching in basketball shirts and muscle tops. I feel my cheeks fluster with heat. Grey is dripping in sweat, and so is Mateo, but he looks attractive in a whole other way. His golden-specked skin outlines his impressive muscles, and his hair is slicked with sweat. I nearly pass out and die when he brings up the hem of his white shirt and wipes his face.
“Might wanna close your mouth before he sees it as an invitation,” a voice whispers haughtily in my ear. I jump in surprise and snap my head to the right. I find Sofía smirking at me.
“Shut up,” I hiss-whisper, and she raises her hands defensively. Being annoying sure does run in the family.
“¿Qué te dije sobre tu maldita maldición?” Alma curses at Grey…for cursing. (What did I tell you about your god damn cursing?)
He and I both laugh, and his eyes meet mine. I suppress a giggle when he jokingly rolls his eyes to provoke his grandmother, who then threatens to get her belt.
“Lo siento, abuela, pero estoy tan hambriento,” he apologizes, but his eyes are glued to me. I blush and glance away, but he’s staring at me with a mission written on his face as he comes over to me. “Y tengo mis ojos puestos en algo en particular.” (I’m sorry, grandma, but I’m so hungry. /And I have my eyes on one thing in particular.)
I stiffen and tighten my grip on the knife, as if he is about to lunge and gobble me up like the big bad wolf he often represents himself as. My heart is beating faster, and I swallow a lump in my throat when he stops in front of me. He leans forward, eyes drilling through my soul, and I pull the knife back. When he pulls back, he has a mini empanada in his hand, and I feel myself blush and bite my lip. I forgot, there’s a huge tray of them on the counter behind me.
And here I thought he meant me…I don’t know if I should be disappointed or relieved…
“Oh, hey there, didn’t see you there,” he grumbles with a satisfied smirk as he chews.
I roll my eyes and use the butt of the knife to push him back. “Lies.”
He laughs. “Whoops.” He shrugs his shoulders and sucks on the sauce dripping on his thumb.
Shameless, utterly shameless, I tell you.
“Okay, enough flirting. Go back out and play with your little cousins.” Alma shoos them out of the kitchen.
“There was no flirting,” I groan, putting the knife down, upset but not surprised they’re bringing up this topic again. Poor, naïve me prayed our nice little invasive chat would end when we left the market. But no, it has resurrected itself and is proving to me this family are more persistent on giving me heart palpitations than I thought.
Emilio hums as he kicks his feet back and forth, perched on top of the counter, eating an empanada. “There was a little flirting. Right, Izzy?”
“You are very right, Emmy,” Isabella agrees, waving a knife at him.
He groans and thrusts his head back, meeting the counter, causing him to groan again, but in pain this time, causing us to laugh. “How many times have I told you not to call me that?”
“What? It’s a pretty name,” she defends, pouting.
“Right! Pretty, and it sounds like a fucking girl’s name!” He flings the rest of his uneaten little treat at his cousin.
She raises her knife and points it at him. “I will shove this up your ass, and you will be shitting butter-knives for a week!” she threatens.
“¿No te advert sobre insultar en mi casa?” Alma butts in, pointing her knife at them. Then she shifts it to Emilio, and he raises his arms defensively. “Vas a la parte de atrás y juegas con los chicos. No toleraré que un vago se siente en mi mostrador. ¡Muévete!” (Didn’t I warn you about cursing in my house? /You go out to the back and play with the boys. I will not tolerate a lazy bum sitting on my counter. Move!)
I burst into laughter and so does Isabella and Sofía as we watch Emilio gasp, then storm outside, muttering curses, causing Alma to run after him with the knife. We all rush over to the kitchen and watch as she chases him, screaming something about having no respect for his elders and how she would whoop his ass with the knife until he looked like a victim of Krueger Freddy. Cute. She got his name backward.
The girls are going on about a bet to see if she really does do what she threatens, but I find myself zoning out as I find Grey in the midst of the crowd.
He’s playing soccer with his little cousins and Mateo, only now he’s shirtless and his sweaty, inked chest and back are on display. He is quick as a bullet on his feet, retrieving and running around with the soccer ball. He chants and mocks and teases the little guys, showing no mercy as he drives the ball into a makeshift net leaning against the wooden fence. I hide a giggle behind my hand as he fist pumps the air and boasts in the little kids’ faces. He is so freaking mean…it’s kind of cute.
As if sensing my gaze or hearing my barely audible laugh, his eyes find mine through the open window. And he smiles. Widely. Brightly. And perfectly. My chest tingles, and I find myself waving at him, then giving him a thumbs up in reference to him winning the little game.
He sticks out his tongue and winks at me, waving his hand in a surfer dude way.
I laugh some more but stop when I feel two very judging eyes burning through me. I look at both Isabella and Sofía, each not even hiding their grins. I can read their minds. I groan and turn around to head back to the chopping board.
“Ni siquiera empieces conmigo,” I warn them, grabbing the knife and pointing it at them, because that’s the only way you get this family to listen to you. Or, you know, you could chase them with it. Either or, whichever is more effective. (Don't even start with me.)
***
Dinner was great. Not everyone could fit at the massive table, so some had to eat either outside or in the kitchen despite Alma’s protests. They were all so welcoming that I got to meet almost each and every one of them. The food was delicious, thanks to Alma and those who helped, and I almost died at how good her flan was.
Throughout, some reminisce about Nathaniel, Grey’s grandfather. Grey held onto my hand the entire time.
Isabella, Sofía, and Emilio, even Alma, eyed it the entire time, casting each other knowing looks.
Ugh, Wylers!
But I’m okay with one in particular…as a friend.
I couldn’t help but carefully watch Alma listen to each member who told a certain story that included her late husband of sixty years.
When I first met Alma, I expected her to be heartbroken and unable to cope with the death of her husband, but apparently, she had enough time to prepare for it since she was told he wouldn’t live for much longer shortly before he passed. She has been nothing but sweet and smiles toward me, and I admire her for being so strong during all of this. Although, past all her smiles and joking about Grey being an asshole, which he is, I can see the pain in her eyes. She almost covers it up perfectly. Almost.
Now that it’s over and everyone has moved to the back to sit around the campfire and hang out again, I’m on my way to shower. The day felt like it dragged on forever and ever, and I could use some washing up. Tomorrow is the funeral, and I can just feel the emotional torrent everyone will be going through, especially Grey.
I sigh as I send Noah a text, telling him I’ll be in the shower in case he decides to text or call. Though, since our conversation at the airport, he hasn’t reached out to me. Not once. I’m confused about where we stand. Does he still hate me and want to end things before they’ve even started? Or does he want to give me—us—a chance, but is scared of something that will never happen between Grey and me, and he wants space? I want to know what’s going on in his head, but he’s blocking me out, and it’s beginning to piss me off more than anything.
I twist on the faucet and turn to the sink while it warms up. I unzip my toiletry bag and begin brushing my teeth thoroughly. Afterward, I pack it away and strip off my clothes. I neatly fold them and place them on the floor, then slip into the shower. Instantly, I am relaxed, moaning as the hot water beats against my aching muscles from cooking all day.
Not even fifteen minutes later, the shower curtain is yanked back.
I shout and attempt to cover my breasts and cross my legs.
Grey beams up at me. “Hey there…” His eyes lower to my right hand, covering between my legs. “Friends.”
“What are you doing, Grey?” I hiss. I could have sworn I locked the door.
He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” He gestures to my body, and I flush as red as the curtain and shrug my shoulders.
“I don’t care. What do you want?” He’s over-stepping every boundary to ever exist right now.
“What…did…I…want…hmmm?” He hums and taps his chin.
I splash water at him, and he barks at me, but I hold up a finger, cutting him off. “Hurry up and speak before I kick you where the sun doesn’t shine.”
“Fine, geez.” He roughly rubs his face and says, “Me and the gang, my lovely cousins you have acquainted yourself with, are going into town. There’s this festival thing going on.”
“And? I wanted to get some rest.”
“Don’t be a granny,” he groans.
“I am not a—ugh! Why should I even do what you say? You didn’t even ask nicely.”
“You’re a smart cookie, ’cause I wasn’t asking.” His hard-ass face is on display now.
I chew on my lip and throw the idea in my head a bit. I was here for him, to be by his side. Plus, a festival sounds nice?
“Fine,” I finally say.
“Great.” He grins and bites his lip as his eyes wash over me. “And wear something short. It’s gonna be hot tonight…” His words sound keenly suggestive, and I just nod. He licks his lips before letting the curtain go and walking out of the room, letting the door shut behind him.
I am thankful for the tiled wall, because it holds me up the rest of my cold shower.