I came up behind her. How sweet, Mi Cielo was nervous aboutmeeting my moms.
Okay, I was nervous about everyone meeting my moms.
My arms wrapped around her as I kissed her on her cheek. Dark hair cascaded across her shoulders and she wore a little necklace with a heart on it and matching earrings.
“You look incredible.” I was just wearing some khaki pants and a button-down.
She turned around and looked at me. “Wow, you’re wearing a shirt. Is that how I get you to wear clothes?”
“My moms don’t care what I wear. You know, they're going to love you,” I assured.
“Would you be okay if they don’t?” Those blue eyes lasered into my soul.
Wow, that was a question I hadn’t truly considered.
I cupped her face with my hand. “I have six moms. All of them being happy about something at the same time isn’t always going to happen. While their approval would be nice, it’s not necessary. I love them very much, but you’re my family, too, and this family is important.”
My love and sincerity flowed through the bond.
She looked at me. “Thank you.”
“For what?” I blinked.
“For choosing me.” Her voice caught a little as she said that.
I had no idea what that meant. Of course, I chose her. I dated her. I mated her. I was going to continue to choose her and make this amazing relationship work.
But I had this feeling that wasn’t what she was talking about.
“You’re Mo Shíorghra. I will always choose you.” I knew I shared her with Fiona, and I was fine with that. Love was infinite. Finally, I broke off the hug. “We should get going. My brother, the chef, is making tacos. It’ll be good,” I assured.
There were footsteps.
“Are you ready? We should probably get going. Where the fuckare we gonna park? Maybe we should take the subway?” Carlos questioned.
I checked my phone. “They got us a space. Another one of my brothers is literally sitting in it to make sure no one parks there. But we should hurry.”
There were guest spaces in the building, but there weren’t very many.
“Oh, um, we kinda have our own dialect so if we slip into it, I apologize in advance,” I added.
“Hazard of Dusty’s moms speaking multiple languages,” Carlos added.
Hale nodded. “My translator mom wrote a paper on that. It happens sometimes in packs.”
I took Saoirse’s hand and we headed to the garage. Fiona wore a pretty green dress, and Hale had his hat and boots. Carlos had on an orange woven shirt and khakis.
“Oh, here.” Hale took something out of his pocket and handed it to Carlos. “Pre-emptive? I am guessing there will be lots of cheese?”
“Thank you.” Carlos kissed him and took it, getting into the car.
“Fiona, can I drive?” I asked.
She tossed me the fob. “Go for it.”
I drove Fiona’s pink car to the neighborhood I’d grown-up in. I was five when my parents died in the car accident and I woke up in the hospital to have a sad nurse tell me that they hadn’t made it.
Then Tia Ari and Zia Rina– my mom’s best friends–showed up. They hugged me tightly and told me that I was going to come home with them.
