I made a beeline for my favorite cousins, Carolina and Karina, and attacked them with hugs. They were the same age as my sister and me, and they had two brothers, just like we did. We’d always been like a matching set. I’d introduced them to Mr. Darcy, and they had introduced me to the nightlife in México—the plazas, the food stands, the fresh tortillas, the nighttimefogatas. To me, they’d always be synonymous with home.
“Oh my God. Who is that?” Carolina asked, nodding toward Elliott and Morgan as they stepped into the yard.
“That’s Morgan’s brother. You don’t remember him?”
“Is he a model? Did he actually get more good-looking?” she asked.
“I know. Don’t even get me started. It’s gross.”
We both burst into giggles, but before I could say more, mytía—Carolina’s mom—pulled me into a hug and practically dragged me across the lawn toward a picnic table.
“Mija, this is Julián, a friend of your cousin Gael. I thought you two should meet.”
Julián stood, and his handsomeness hit me like a sucker punch. Elliott’s beauty was sharp, the kind that smacked you in the face and demanded notice. Julián’s was different—like a warm sunset, breathtaking in a quieter, softer way. Why Elliott was the first comparison that popped into my head, I had no idea, and I didn’t care to unpack it.
I extended my hand. His grip was warm, his palm only a little sweaty.
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
“El placer es mío,” he replied smoothly.
There was a beat of awkward silence before mytíachimed in. “He’s new in town, and he might need someone to show him around. I told him you’d be perfect for that.”
I guessed matchmaking was a family affair. I cringed at the thought of everyone witnessing this—my family stepping in to pair me off like I couldn’t manage on my own. Am I really that desperate? Do they think I’ll end up an old maid? I already knew the answer. My love life had been a trial run in dating the worst mistakes imaginable. Some people say you end up dating your parents. Not me. I dated a who’s-who of dumpster fires.
“Sure, anytime. Just let me know,” I said politely, kissing my aunt on the cheek.
I excused myself and headed toward my mom, who was fussing over the food. I jumped in to help, willing the heat in my face to cool. Before long, she was directing an assembly line oftíasand cousins, serving plates one after the other. I felt someone hovering at my back—it was Elliott.
“Hey. You okay?” I asked. He looked lost, out of place.
“Can I help?” His voice was quiet, sincere enough that I almost reached for his hand. But the memory of the last time I’d reached for him stopped me. It always stopped me.
“We’re just about done, and my mom would murder me if I put you to work. Where are you sitting? I’ll bring you a plate.” I gestured toward the food, but his eyes stayed on mine.
“I’ll eat whatever you bring me,” he said, then pointed to a bench where Morgan was helping Chloe and Logan fill water balloons.
He was about to walk away when he stopped, staring at the cake sitting in its plastic container. I knew exactly what caught his attention.
“Your birthday isn’t for a few weeks,” he said. It was such a small thing—but it felt like everything.
I was so stunned I went quiet for a beat too long. His eyebrows rose. He waved a hand in front of my face, checking if I was still present.
“Yep. Yeah,” I said, at a complete loss for words.
His expression went flat. I was about to explain that my birthday didn’t matter, but my mom nudged me aside as she passed a plate. “Mija, help. Don’t just stand there.”
I shrugged helplessly at Elliott. He walked off with a strange look on his face.
The plates made their way to the picnic tables, and I finally sat with mine, plus Elliott’s and Morgan’s. We ate quietly,watching the kids abandon their food for the water balloon fight. Elliott dug in like he hadn’t eaten in days.
“What’s your favorite?” I bumped his shoulder with mine.
“The meat is so tender. Your mom always makes it just right.”
It wascarne asada—our favorite. To this day, no one knew how my mom, a lifelong vegetarian, seasoned and cooked meat so perfectly.
“She’s magic. Everything she touches turns to gold,” I said through a mouthful of taco. I moaned at a particularly good bite, and Elliott chuckled.
