Mami nods and translates for Millie’s benefit. “I got her some hand warmers from Academy,” Mami says, then reaches for her giant purse. “Would you three like some? I have extra.”
Millie smiles at my mother. “No thanks. We’re—”
“I’ll take one!” Emmett says, leaning across Millie with an outstretched hand.
“Here you go,hombrecito,”Mami says, handing one over before eyeing the Delacroix women. “You sure you don’t want any?”
Wearing the same exact demure grins, Millie and Mattie shake their heads and thank her.
Mami looks up at me. “Here. We saved you a spot,” she says, patting the bleacher between her and Millie.
I nearly snort. Of course, she wants me to sit between her and Millie. All the better for her and Abuela to hear everything we say.
“Thanks, Mami,” I say, with just a hint of sarcasm. “What would I do without you?”
She huffs. “Never find the right girl...” she intones in Spanish. “Never get married. Never give me grandchildren…” I’ve got to hand it to my mother. Her sense of timing is uncanny.
“Who said anything about the right girl?” Papi mutters in Spanish. It’s not loud, but Mami, Abuela, and,me cago en Dios,Mattie all snap their gazes at him.
“Suficiente, Jorge.”My voice is soft but my meaning is anything but. Papi doesn’t even look at me.
Seething, I sit next to Millie.
“Hi,” she says softly.
“Hi.”
She lowers her voice. “You okay?”
At first I don’t say anything, my anger at Papi and the dread I carry for the conversation to come blot out almost everything else. And then I look at her. Her eyes are wide, watchful. She’s hanging on my every word. And I’ve given her—the woman I love—just one.
Cabrón egoísta.
“Just a rough couple of days. I’ll tell you about them later,” I promise, giving her a half-hearted smile.
Millie lifts the edge of her stadium blanket and drapes it over me, enveloping me in her warmth. Most of the anger and even a little of the dread die away. Under the blanket, I reach for her hands and squeeze them tightly in mine.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I don’t mean to be acascarrabias.”
A smile breaks over her face. “What’s acascarrabias?”
In spite of everything, I smile. She can always make me smile. “A grump.”
She wrinkles her nose, her smile growing. “I kind of already knew you had a grumpy streak,” she teases. Then she gives me a little shrug. “I kind of already love it.”
Sweetness pours through me like warm honey.Nuestro Padre, please let her love me the way I love her. Let her want me. If it is your will, let her want my babies.
Her face sobers as I watch her. “Luc, why do you look so sad?” She squeezes my hand.
I shake my head, squeezing back. “Ignore me. Let’s watch the game.”
Checking the scoreboard, I see the Lions are down by one. “What did I miss?”
Mattie snorts. “The same thing Harry missed. A kick by one of Jesuit’s strikers.”
“Ouch,” I say, eyeing her with newfound respect. “Kind of harsh, Matt.”
“I calls ‘em likes I sees ‘em,” she says, not taking her eyes off the game. Or, more to the point, not taking her eyes off Alex.
