I bite the inside of my cheek so I won’t laugh. “No. it’s nothing like that. It’s a sauce made with like nineteen thousand ingredients—like Indian curry, except it’s nothing like Indian curry,” I ramble, feeling an excited fire stoke up inside me as I try to explain the greatest and most complex sauce in the history of Mexico. “No twomolerecipes are exactly the same, but once you taste it, you’ll know it no matter whose recipe it is. It’s made with chilies—Mami uses three different kinds. And seeds. You can use pumpkin, sesame, peanuts, almonds, anise, tomatoes, tomatillos, and about a half-pound of chocolate.”
She goes starry eyed. “Chocolate? Is it a dessert?”
I shake my head. “No, you pour it over meat. Mami usually makes it with roast chicken, but forCinco de Mayo,Papi grills the chicken instead,” I explain. I want to tell her Mami will serve it with turkey on Thursday, and that she should come and try it, but I already know how she feels about that.
“Alex likes it best with pulled pork. Kind of like a Mexican brisket.”
“Mmm,” she moans. “That sounds amazing.” She takes another bite of soup, but I can tell just by the look on her face, it’s not as satisfying as it was five minutes ago. Not after hearing about the magicalmole.
“Mami’s an amazing cook,” I say honestly.
She looks at me. The light in her eyes has dulled a little. Her smile fades. “Just don’t take it for granted,” she says, her voice going hollow.
Oh shit.
I shake my head. “Millie, I didn’t mean—”
She holds up her spoon to stop me. “I know. It’s fine. Just…” She pushes the corners of her mouth into something that can’t even come close to a smile. “Just make her write down all her recipes and tell her how good it is every time.”
Millie doesn’t look away, so I don’t either. I hold her gaze because she has to hold all of this every day.
“I will,” I promise, and I mean it. My parents are getting older, and Papi’s health isn’t great. But I have them, and watching Millie try so damn hard every day lets me know just how lucky I am.
She breaks her gaze and looks toward her door. “So, the kids are okay?”
I nod. “Present and accounted for. Fed, and in Emmett’s case, bathed.”
Her brows leap. “Are you serious? Bathed? How did you manage that?”
“Don’t underestimate me,” I say with a grin.
“Hmph.”She rolls her eyes and then takes another bite of soup. But she winces, wrinkles her nose, and sets the container on her nightstand. “I think I’ve had enough.”
She’s hardly had any. “Throat hurts that bad?”
She looks caught and gives me that shrug.
“You need to see a doctor tomorrow.”
Millie shakes her head. “I’ll feel better tomorrow.”
Ihmph,imitating her. “Do you have a fever?” I don’t even wait for her to answer because I know she won’t admit it if she does. I put down my soup on her nightstand and reach across for her.
My hands press to her cheeks. The touch should mean nothing, but as soon as our eyes meet, the memory of our kiss flames between us. All it takes is her face in my hands, and I’m in that moment. I can tell, in the open depths of her blue eyes, she’s in it too. That lost world of ours still exists right where we left it. Right here.
The only thing that stops me from pulling her to my mouth is the heat. Her face is hot. Really hot. I shift a hand to her forehead. Fever blooms.
“You’re burning up,” I say, frowning.
She tries to shake out of my touch, but I grip her shoulders. “Millie, you’re really sick.”
“I can’t be sick. I’m f—“
My grip tightens. “If you say you’re fine one more time, I’m going to get myabuelaover here to give you her egg remedy.”
Millie’s brows drop into a glower, but she tilts her face and looks at me sidelong. “What’s her egg remedy?”
“Trust me,” I threaten, putting on my best poker face. “You don’t want to know.”
