“You’re witnessing my first time ever chilling with a parrot,” she whispers, as if she’s scared of startling Hermes. My traitorous bird shamelessly nuzzles his beak into her hair to check her out. Why am I a little irked that he gets to touch her hair before I do? He’s being a complete flirt with my possible wife right now.
“Red,” he proclaims proudly after a thorough examination of her strands, and Celeste huffs a disbelieving laugh.
“He’s smarter than most adults I know,” she says in awe.
“That he is.”
I let Daisy out too, and she flies to my hand. She closes her eyes in bliss when I give her some scratches on her head before having her sit on the big perches I have in the cornerof the room. Oh, fuck. I’m so caught up with Celeste meeting the birds that I almost forget the food.
“Will you be ok for a sec while I check on dinner and turn the stove off?”
“Sure. Do they like getting pets?”
“They’re both complete suckers for head scratches, just not on the body,” I tell her as I stride into the kitchen. Everything is done, so I turn off the burner and move the pot off of the heat. Using a fork, I quickly fluff up the rice before putting the lid back on to keep the food hot. When I go back into the living room, I can’t help but quietly watch for a second.
Celeste has Hermes on her forearm, and Daisy is looking happy as a clam making a nest of Celeste’s red waves. I silently beg whatever entity is listening to not let Daisy poop in her hair, but I’m hesitant to call her to me and ruin the fun Celeste appears to be having. Her smile is blinding as she plays with them. That smile is then set on me when she clocks me watching her.
“These two are my new BFFs, just call me Snow White. They’re amazing,” she announces.
“Did you have any pets growing up?”
“A handful of homes I was in had pets, and I loved them. There was a German Shepherd named Knox in one home who was protective of me and so sweet. Another home I was in had a huge orange cat like Garfield named Henry. None of them were ever for me though, or felt like mine, if that makes any sense. I’ve never had a pet of my own.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal, but her stiff posture says otherwise.
Clearly looking to change the subject, she then asks, “So, why birds?”
“They’re my dad’s favorites, he loves how colorful theyare, and the way they can learn to say words. They remind him of my mom, too, since she was so beautiful and sang a lot just like them. I grew up around a whole flock of them. We had a feisty macaw named Soleil, my dad rescued her when she was twenty, and she lived to be forty-one. There were two quaker parrots, Gideon and Galen, who were so smart and passed a couple of years ago when they were just shy of twenty-five, plus lots of budgies. I loved them, and needed my own when I moved in here.” She smiles a little.
“I love that. I’ve never met cooler pets than these two. Tania’s cats are great and all, but neither of them can tell me my hair is red,” she jokes.
“My two birds clearly like you more than me, so I think they’re honored to have you for a new BFF,” I tell her. She perks up and beams at me. My heart cracks, because it’s so obvious that this woman just wants love, in whatever form, but is too scared to seek it out. It doesn’t sound like she’s ever had stability or that unconditional love we all need, except from Tania and the few pets she’s lived with. There must be something showing on my face, because her beaming smile falters.
“You don’t need to feel sorry for me. I’ve turned out ok enough, and I’m going to get the help I need for my issues,” she says a little stiffly.
“There’s a big difference between sympathy and empathy,” I tell her quietly before pointing to myself. “Abandonment issues right here, remember?” Something flickers in those stormy grey eyes before they soften and become calmer.
“Yeah, I remember,” she replies. There’s a beat of silence where we just take each other in. My need to break up the intensity takes over, so I clear my throat.
“You ready to eat?”
Chapter 9
Celeste
His kitchen is gorgeous. I could see it from the living room, but I was way too distracted by Hermes and Daisy to really look. There’s a center island with plenty of room for prep, a six burner stainless steel stove that has two ovens underneath, and a microwave drawer. Gleaming white countertops pop against dark grey cabinetry, while sunlight streams in from the two large windows and glass paneled backdoor. White subway tiles line the backsplash and blend seamlessly right into the counters. Everything looks modern and state of the art without seeming stuffy. He keeps it spotless with only a couple of personal touches.
There’s a picture on the counter of Gage with a woman who must be his abuela, both of them bent over a stove and smiling. On the fridge, a handful of cute drawings clearly done by a child or children are proudly on display with magnets in the shapes of parrots. Does he have a kid from some previous relationship? I know he hates the idea of marriage, but am I possibly getting into a situation where I’d be a step-mom?
“My niece and nephew, Wayne’s two kids, love to draw for me. Their names are Ava and Braden. I would be disowned by them if I didn’t hang them up, not that I don’t want to show them off anyway,” he says, clearly reading my panicked face as I look at them. I almost sag from relief.
“Please don’t mistake me, I like kids. I’m having enough trouble wrapping my head around a marriage though, let alone becoming a step-mom. I’ve never wanted to have my own kids after the way I grew up,” I explain. Not that I need to explain myself.
“Same,” he says simply. “I love my niece and nephew with all of my heart, but being an uncle is plenty for me.” I frown in confusion.
“You’re not looking to have heirs to carry on the El Abrevadero legacy someday down the road?”
“Fuck no. I work so much, and I need my free time to not be filled with soccer tournaments or playdates or children’s birthday parties. That is not my scene at all. I’m certainly not going to ask the mother of these hypothetical children to do all of that on her own. Wayne’s kids can carry it on, or my cousin Diana’s future kids since I know she wants them. She loves the bar almost as much as I do, and I know she’d pass that on. As long as it’s still in the family.” Shock pulses through me, not at his words, but at the fact we both feel the same about having kids. I nod mutely in acknowledgment, not knowing what to say in response.
“That got a little heavy, sorry about that,” he mumbles self-consciously, rubbing the back of his neck.
