Alejandro

Although I'd been almost two years into a celibate phase, before Kaya, I would've said that I liked sex. A lot. I suspected it was why I'd made a lot of really shitty choices as far as partners went when I was younger.

With Kaya, I realized that whatever it was I'd liked about having sex before her was nothing but a weak imitation. I wasn't stupid—I knew a huge difference was that I hadn't just had sex with Kaya—I'd made love to her from beginning to end. That accounted for some of the change but not all of it. The pleasure I'd gotten from touching, tasting, loving and being inside of her was light years ahead of anything I'd ever experienced. In some ways, it felt a lot like being a virgin. Everything was new and uncharted with her—deeper in every single way. I felt more, I came harder, and in the aftermath, I didn't experience my typical disconnect.

After we cuddled and talked for a few minutes, she'd pulled my shirt on and gone to the bathroom. While she was busy, I put my boxer briefs back on and used the bathroom in the hallway before I made my way downstairs to make eggs, sausage, and toast. I'd only eaten half at dinner, and Kaya had taken two measly bites, which meant I knew she'd be starving. I admit I had a cocky grin on my face as I recalled exactly how she'd worked up such an appetite.

I knew she was there about two seconds before she propped her hip on the counter next to the stove next to where I was standing.

“That’s a devious look,” she laughed.

I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively as I flipped the over easy eggs I was cooking. “Just thinking about everything that went on upstairs and how incredible you are.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Yeah?”

“I’ll be remembering that experience for the rest of my life, Belleza.”

Her eyes softened as she traced her thumb over her lower lip and smiled. “Me too,” she said softly.

She looked so unbelievably gorgeous standing there in my shirt; her hair pulled up into a messy bun and her legs bare. She was so petite that my shirt hung almost to her knees and somehow that was even sexier.

"Keep looking at me like that, and we'll be wasting another meal," she said softly.

Every part of me wanted to do just that, but I held myself back when I heard her stomach growl. “You need to eat.”

She bit her lip and looked up at me from under her lashes. “Not just me,” she said huskily. “You’re going to need to keep your strength up, too.”

I shook my head and laughed. “I’ve created a monster.”

Her laugh mirrored mine. “You have no idea.”

I groaned and forced myself to stay strong. “Find something to do, Belleza or I’ll wind up burning this meal to a crisp.”

She laughed as she bounced up onto her toes and dropped a quick kiss on my lips. “I’ll grab us a quick dessert,” she announced as she spun around and headed for the pantry.

“Nothing too heavy since I’ve already got my eye on my dessert,” I called out. When she turned, she caught me looking at her sexy backside.

She blew a little kiss at me before she continued with what she was doing. In just a few minutes I had our breakfast for dinner ready, and she'd pulled out a jar of homemade lemon curd and a store bought pound cake. Once I'd plated the food I met her at the table, sliding into the seat beside her. Although it had been less than thirty minutes since I'd been inside of her, I already wanted her again. I slid my hand behind her neck and brought her in for a kiss. If her stomach hadn't growled again, I'd have had her up on the table so that I could eat her in the blink of an eye. As it was, I couldn't contain a groan as I forced myself to pull back. We settled into eating while also making what my sister-in-law referred to as "the gooey eyes" at each other.

We were nearing the end of the meal when I realized I'd meant to tell her something over dinner. "I forgot to tell you—my family is moving the trip up a day and a half. They were meant to arrive late Saturday, but one of my father's friends has asked him to play golf Saturday morning at the Calabasas Country Club. They'll be arriving sometime Friday morning, depending on what time they take off. Assembling everyone can sometimes be a hassle, so we all just know to say that takeoff and arrival times are fluid."

Kaya’s right eyebrow arched as she swallowed the last bite of her eggs. “You guys must pay a fortune in rebooking fees,” she said.

I shook my head. "We have a small fleet of private planes," I answered. "Except for Joaquin the rest of us are in and out of America and France too regularly to fly commercial."

"Wow," she said with a small laugh. "I forget that you're… Well, you—until stuff like that comes up. A fleet of private planes. That’s just… wow.”

“Does it bother you? The money?”

She hesitated, worrying her bottom lip as she chose her words. “I wouldn’t say it bothers me, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I have some anxiety about it.”

I leaned in closer and put my hand on the back of her chair. “Explain why it makes you anxious so that I can understand and take care of it.”

She wrinkled her nose as she dabbed at her lips with a napkin. “It’s past stuff,” she said dismissively.

When she didn't offer more information, I took my hand off the back of her chair, lifted a small section of her hair and began twirling it through my fingers.

“Does this past stuff have anything to do with your comment earlier that you didn’t want to be in a relationship until you turned twenty-five?”

She looked up at me from under her lashes. “Are you sure you want to talk about this? The whole thing makes me feel stupid.”

I immediately knew that whatever she had to say would have something to do with previous relationships. In no way did I want to hear about her with other men—but that didn’t mean I didn’t need to.

“Don’t feel stupid talking to me, Belleza. If it relates to you, I always want to know.”

"I—well, it's a long story. Do you mind if I we take this out onto the patio so I can give Elvis his before bed snack?"

“Of course not. How about I quickly put these dishes in the dishwasher while you grab the big guy his treat?”

She nodded but said nothing as she stood and walked to the refrigerator. I could see the tension in her, and I knew I needed to reassure her. I walked up behind her at the fridge and wrapped my arms around her waist. "I know that talking about things you'd rather forget isn't high on your to-do list but never forget that it's just history, Kaya. You are here now, and you're happy. That in and of itself is a win to me."

She grabbed the container of chopped up cantaloupe from the fridge and turned in my arms. “You’re right,” she answered. “Plus the sooner we get this over with the sooner we can get back upstairs.”

“That’s right, Belleza. Focus on what matters. After we get this out of the way, I’ll carry you up the stairs and make you forget you were anxious for even a moment.”

Although her answering smile was still a bit reserved, I was relieved to see that it was genuine. After a quick kiss, she headed outside to Elvis. While she took care of that, I made quick work of the dishes. When I was finished, I dried my hands off and walked outside, smiling when I saw Kaya sitting on the outdoor sofa watching as Elvis gleefully pecked at his pile of cantaloupe, mealworms, and grit.

I took a seat on the couch and slid my arm over Kaya’s shoulder before I leaned in and rested my face on the top of her head. I loved the way she relaxed against me because it showed trust.

“When I’m with you everything that I always thought was so difficult is somehow easier than I ever could have hoped,” she murmured. “All the things that led me here don’t seem so bad anymore.”

My response was straightforward. "I'm glad."

"Other than an anecdote here or there and mentioning that they'll be here Monday or Tuesday I haven't talked to you very much about Gigi and Dean," she said.

“Only that you call them your fairy godparents,” I answered.

"It's as apt a descriptive if any," she sighed. "Dean and Gigi made a calculated decision at the beginning of their marriage not to have children. It wasn't that they didn't care for them—they just preferred to be alone together. All that got blown to smithereens when they were forty-nine years old, and my parents showed up at their door with me. Dean and my grandfather grew up together and were close, so Dean was—is—my father's godfather. My grandfather raised my dad on his own after my grandmother left him when my dad was twelve but then he died of a heart attack about a year before my parents gave me up.

I nodded when she looked back to see if I was getting everything she was saying.

"After my grandfather died, Dean didn't see my dad unless they ran into each other in town. Before that, they'd run across each other once or twice a year, but they were never close. My parents are both almost pathologically unattached to everyone but each other. Anyway… without warning, they took me to Dean and Gigi's one Monday afternoon. I remember sitting in the backyard on a picnic bench while they talked. When I look back, I feel sick because I was completely clueless about what was coming my way. I didn't know Gigi and Dean. I've seen enough photos to know that I saw them if they were at my grandfather's, but as a four-year-old who hadn't seen them in over a year, the memories just weren't there."

My stomach churned as she told her story. I couldn’t believe her fucking parents had dumped her at all, much less with people who weren’t familiar to her. I silently encouraged her to continue by rubbing my free hand up and down her arm.

“My parents didn’t say goodbye when they left. They’d never been affectionate but leaving me with people I didn’t know was terrifying. I screamed and cried so hard that I started to hyperventilate.”

I promised myself that if her parents ever tried to make contact, I'd ruin their lives.

"Dean and Gigi didn't have children of their own, so they were at a loss. Gigi was down on the ground rocking me back and forth in her arms while I cried. When I calmed down enough to breathe, Dean went inside and made me hot chocolate. My parents had dropped off two suitcases full of my clothes and books, but that was it. Since there were no toys or anything Dean put a call into Emery's family who lived next door. We met for the first time when they showed up half an hour later with a bunch of toys. I sometimes can't imagine how I would've survived if she hadn't been next door."

I swallowed thickly, the idea of tiny four-year-old Kaya being left behind hitting me like a kick to my solar plexus. "I'm glad she was there, Belleza."

I hadn't even met Emery, and already I knew I was in her debt for being a friend to Kaya and for having a trash-picking peacock.

"It took me ages to feel comfortable at Gigi and Dean's. For months and months, I cried every single day and asked when my parents were coming back to get me. I found out later that they'd signed guardianship over just a few days after they dropped me off. For a long time, the highlight of every day was going next door to Emery's house to play with her and feed the birds.

"It took about a year before I started to feel like Dean and Gigi's house was my home. My parents relocated to San Diego after they dumped me like a bad habit, but then my father called fourteen months after they left me to announce that they thought they should take me back. I remember being excited that they wanted me even though they hadn't called or sent a card or been in any form of contact since the day they left me. I feel so dumb admitting that I'd convinced myself that they were treasure hunters off on an adventure that wouldn't have been safe to take me on."

Did I say I would ruin their lives? Because when she got to that part of the story, I understood ruining wouldn't be good enough.

"You weren't dumb, Belleza. You were just a little girl who wanted to believe in something. Parents are supposed to love their children unconditionally. Not all do, and that is, without a doubt, a character flaw on their part. Any child in your position would've tried to make sense of the situation similarly."

She sighed and nodded as she looked out into the yard. “I know you’re right, but every time I think of it I cringe. I hate that I wanted them back for even an instant.”

“Because you have a heart,” I murmured. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with that.”

"I was so excited that I was going to see my parents again, and Gigi and Dean were beside themselves. I remember sneaking down the stairs and watching Dean holding onto Gigi while she sobbed—and yet I still wanted my parents back. It was all for nothing, of course. When he called, he'd been adamant about coming to get me that weekend- and then they never showed up. No phone call, no letter, and no explanation. Poor Dean had to pay a private investigator to track them down to make sure they weren't dead. They were alive and well, enjoying life in San Diego. When Dean called and asked what the hell was going on, my father had no recollection of ever calling him. He laughed and said he'd probably been drunk."

The need for scorched earth redemption was my level of internal fury as I listened to her. Somehow I kept myself from tensing up or cursing a blue streak about what selfish pieces of crap her parents were, but fuck, I wanted to rage.

“Did you ever see or hear from them again?” I asked.

Kaya nodded. "One time, a few months after my sixteenth birthday. Gigi and I were out to lunch, and we ran into my mother because she was in town for a wedding. I didn't even recognize her. She could've said nothing, but since she knew Gigi, she spoke up. It was like meeting a stranger. She barely looked at me, and when she did, there was no interest in her eyes. That was awkward, and then she dropped a bomb and told us that they'd had another child ten years before. His name is Kayan—and they gave him up for adoption when he was just a few months old because he was too much work."

“Esos hijos de puta,” I seethed.

Kaya looked over at me and wrinkled her nose. “You did it again. English, please.”

“Sorry. What I said was, those motherfuckers. They are terrible people, Kaya. I can’t believe someone so perfect came from them.”

“I would hardly say I’m perfect, Alejandro.”

I ran my hand up her arm and then gently squeezed her shoulder. “Perfect to me, Belleza.”

“You haven’t heard the bad part of the story yet,” she said.

My stomach clenched at her words. “Go on.”

“I… well, I went a little crazy after we saw her that day in the restaurant. The timing was awful—Emery had just left for Los Angeles, which meant I didn’t have my best friend there to check my ass. I started drinking, smoking, and hanging out with the wrong crowd. And that’s when I met Paul Davidson.”

I decided I hated the name Paul with a passion.

"Paul was older—twenty, to be exact," she explained, "and I thought he was the bee's knees. It took him a while to notice me—or at least that's what he let me think as I flirted shamelessly and went out of my way to get his attention. I totally debased myself to attract him, and once it worked, I was too dumb to realize what I'd gotten myself into. He was short-tempered and obnoxious, but I thought that was because he was so much better than anyone else.

“His family was rich and he never missed an opportunity to point out that he drove a beemer or that his house was the biggest in town. People—myself included—let him get away with things because he was rich and none of us wanted to rock the boat. Dean and Gigi were beside themselves during that entire period because I was acting like a little asshole. I drank, ignored curfew, started failing all of my classes, and then, I turned up pregnant.”

My breath caught in my throat as my heart twisted in my chest.

I didn't start breathing again until she said, "Or so I thought. It turns out that home pregnancy tests aren't always right—but by the time I got my period, the damage was done because I'd told Paul I was pregnant. Dean and Gigi found out because he had his mother walk into Dean's office to hand him a check for a thousand dollars for me to take care of it. Rumors flew through my school about me cheating on Paul with a drug dealer, and Dean started losing business because nobody wanted to draw Paul's parent's ire. That's what kills me the most—that Gigi and Dean lost money because of me. They were already past retirement age, and if I hadn't been around, they'd have sold the business years before. The only reason they didn't lose everything was that Dean was a financial planner. He'd had their retirement money set aside for years and years. But that my actions brought them to a point where they could have had nothing makes me sick."

"You're very hard on yourself," I said in a gentle tone. "First, that didn't happen. They still had money, and you've told me they're rolling through life in a luxury RV exploring the world the way they always wanted to. You ruined nothing. You were a teenager, Kaya. If I challenged you to find me, one teen who was mature enough to navigate the transition to adulthood without even one small hiccup, I don't believe you'd find one. We all did or said stupid things when we were young and didn't know better."

She exhaled slowly. "I know that's true, but I can't help the anxiety I feel about money. Paul's family used their status and their bank accounts to manipulate people into shunning Dean and Gigi. After that, I started seeing money as being synonymous with selfishness and manipulation."

"For a lot of people, that is true," I answered. "I've seen it too, Kaya, more times than I care to count. I once dated a girl who sold my brother out to the press. People do crazy things because of money—whether they're trying to get money or keep what they have—because they equate power with it. I was fortunate to have been raised by two people who never pulled any punches about the fact that money doesn't mean much if you're a shit human being. If I ever went to my mamá to say I'd gotten a girl pregnant and that I wanted her to harass the girls family, she'd kick my ass all over Barcelona."

Kaya tilted her head to the side. "Do you ever wonder why it's different for some people than it is for others? Gigi and Dean have always had money, but they never shoved it into other people's faces or acted as if they were special. I was still taught to value money, treat it with respect, and to pay it forward whenever I could."

I nodded. "Some of it probably has something to do with the way people started out. My father and my Uncle Quino were both so poor as children that they worried where their next meals would come from. My father's parents were completely useless, so Quino's mamá mostly raised my father, too—and she did it all by herself since her husband died when Quino was four years old. That's how he came to be best friends with my father—because he and his mamá had no choice but to move.

"If it weren't for the sacrifices of Quino's mama, my father would not be where he is today. She worked three jobs just to be able to feed and support both boys, and she never let them forget—not even for a minute—how important education was. They took school seriously because she expected it. Because of how poor they were it is not a surprise that they grew up to do something that involves groceries. She taught them the value of money—and, more importantly, the value of hard work and being a person of honor. Later on, they passed that down to us. My father says one of the best moments of his and Quino's life was when they were able to have her quit her jobs. She passed on in her early sixties, but not before she saw that they were successful beyond anyone's wildest dreams."

Kaya smiled as she turned into my arms. “Maybe some of it is luck, then. Your father and your uncle were both influenced by the exact right person, and they then carried those lessons forward to you. I got lucky because Dean and Gigi took me on and raised me with morals and ethics. Whenever I think of the alternative, I want to vomit. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time to tell that little girl at the picnic table that what was happening was the biggest blessing of her life.”