Señora Garcia nodded.
Señor Garcia shook Jaime’s hand and looked him dead in the eyes. “Good to see you again. We need to talk.”
Great. This was great.
Jaime should’ve grabbed Santi and hightailed it out of there. This day was already out of hand.
But Jaime wanted to get this awkwardness over with.
“Good to see you, too. Let’s talk now.”
Señor Garcia’s eyes looked toward the backyard. “Follow me.” He led Jaime outside. A bunch of Alma’s cousins and aunts and uncles were milling around. One of her cousins leveled Jaime with his eyes.
“Hey, Emilio.”
Emilio nodded in acknowledgment but remained silent.
Señor Garcia stood underneath a big lemon tree, which was adjacent to a skinny lime tree. “So, you’ve come back to see Alma. My wife knew you would.”
Jaime’s throat tightened. Even worse, her family members were staring at them, talking.
“I did, sir. But not romantically. That ship has sailed. She will never forgive me.” Jaime spoke the truth. Alma would never forgive him. But Jaime still wasn’t sure he wanted to even try to have a relationship with her, if she could find a way to let him back into her heart. He was too young to commit, and he didn’t, he wouldn’t break Alma’s heart again. Not that he even had the option to.
He should’ve never come to Marin.
“You must be patient. She still loves you. We love you.”
Jaime wasn’t used to people openly telling him they loved him. His family wasn’t expressive with terms of endearment. He tried to tell Señor Garcia that he loved him too, but he couldn’t get the words out of his mouth.
He studied the old man’s face, the lines deeper, his skin more leathered than Jaime remembered. It was only three years ago that they’d last seen each other. “I have apologized to her about how I left her. I was so young and stupid. And I want to apologize to you as well.”
“Apology accepted. Let’s go eat.”
Señor Garcia placed his hand on Jaime’s back. Jaime’s heart grew. Why couldn’t he have backyard barbecues with his parents instead of pretentious dinners at the latest Michelin three-star restaurant with his mother and her latest boy toy, who was usually Jaime’s age? And he hadn’t seen his dad in a while. He wasn’t even that pissed at him—Jaime knew what his dad had done with Julieta’s restaurant was unforgivable, but that had been two years agonow. Ramón had repaired the damage, and the company was stronger than ever. Enrique had seen their dad recently, but Jaimestill hadn’t talked to him. He had justified it by saying that his father was the one who was supposed to reach out.
But at this point, did whoever would make the first move really matter?
Jaime met up with Santi at the long table full of food. Jaime loaded his plate up with tortillas, carne asada fresh off the grill, beans, rice, guacamole, and pico de gallo.
Santi grinned. “Bro, her parents are cool as fuck for inviting you in.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I wish I could grill with my father.”
“I’m sorry, man.” Jaime clapped Santi’s shoulder. There were no words needed. Life was short.
Jaime took out his phone and texted his dad.
Jaime:Hey. I’m in Marin. Hope you’re okay.
A few seconds later, a message popped up.
Dad:I’m good. I miss you. I’d love to have dinner with you.
Jaime:I’m pretty busy. I’ll let you know when I have time.
It was a little cold, but what could his dad expect? They had never been close. By the time Jaime was born, his father had been so wrapped up in his business that he was never around.
