Page 89 of Read With Your Heart

“Upset me?” I scoff. “I’m so happy.” I truly am as I have news of my own, but I decide now isn’t the time to share with them. This is Emily’s moment. I’m not certain anyway how to explain that Leon’s agreed to be my baby-daddy. It sounds a little surreal and a whole lot of scandalous, considering all we’ve been through, but I meant what I said—I love him—and I love that he wants to give this to me.

“How is Lena?” Emily asks. She knows that Lena plans to finish out the school year, continue to apply to college, and give the baby up for adoption. Maybe it’s another reason Emily decided to adopt Katie. Life is short, and we need to cherish the precious in it.

“She’s doing really well. She’s strong-willed, so she’ll make it.” I have every confidence that while the decision isn’t one Lena made lightly, it’s the right decision for her and her baby. There’s a loving family out there who wants the gift.

“Yes, she will,” Emily states confidently.

“I’m so happy you came back for Jess,” I say, reaching for her hand and squeezing it. I love my soon-to-be sister-in-law and Katie’s future mother.

“And I’m happy Leon came back to you,” she says, catching my eye. “He’s been good for you.”

I almost giggle. She has no idea how good he is.

Lesson 29

Home means more than four walls.

[Leon]

I’m pacing the living room nervously as her mom is driving her back to the house. Tricia had gone to her mother’s for their annual Christmas cookie baking day. I still don’t have a truck, so I asked Tricia if I could borrow her car. This assured she wouldn’t return home too soon. I didn’t purposely want Tricia to get drunk or miss a night in our bed together, but it played into my plan that she stayed the night at her mom’s by turning the cookie-making day into a girls’ overnight because of extra wine.

Now, I’m worried what I’ve done will upset her more than please her, and I’m having a fucking meltdown when Jess hands me a beer.

“Relax. Women love this shit,” Jess teases. His eldest brother, Tom, helped as well as Ethan Scott, who’s returning the favors I’ve done him for his upcoming restaurant. Lys is in on my surprise too, so she stayed at Mary Carter’s last night and she’ll stay there again tonight as I’m hoping Tricia and I will be celebrating this gift.

“I don’t know, man. She’s organized and detailed. Lists and charts and shit. What if I got it wrong?”

“Then you replace it, or you don’t. She’ll live,” Tom interjects.

I want Tricia to love it. I want her to know how much I love her.

When she enters the house, I step forward to the front door, setting my beer on a riser to the staircase without having taken a sip.

“Hey, honey,” she greets me, hands full of plates piled with decorated cookies. Her mother stands behind her, carrying more cookies from their day.

“Baby,” I greet her, stepping up to kiss her temple. I take the plate from her hand, and she turns for the plate in her mother’s hands.

“Let me take these to the kitchen,” she says, and I couldn’t have planned it any better. I follow her, slipping the plate I carry onto the dining room table as we pass through that room. I’m holding my breath when we near the kitchen and almost collide with her once she enters.

She stares at the space.

New stove and refrigerator. New countertop. New flooring that looks like hardwood. The kitchen previously had carpet. Who carpets a kitchen? Fresh paint on the wall.

“I-I . . .” she stutters, skimming her gaze over everything.

“I know it’s not perfect yet. You told me you wanted to paint the cabinets since they are still solid, which we can do in the summer. We can cut out that cabinet if you want a dishwasher. Those old appliances just had to go, and the countertop was the one you showed me online.” She has this crazy thing called a Pinterest board with all her interests and hopes for a new kitchen, along with updated bathrooms plus furniture. It’s a bit backward to put in the flooring and appliances plus countertop before painting the cabinets but the new look does wonders for the space. She hadn’t yet decided on a tile for the backsplash.

“You gave me a new kitchen.” She’s still holding the plate of cookies, her mouth gaping as she tries to take it all in. Black granite counter. Stainless steel appliances. The floor is a light gray wood imitation that is better for a kitchen cleanup. The cabinets are still solid—nothing a good coat of paint won’t revive.

“You gave me a new kitchen,” Tricia repeats, still not looking at me but surveying the space.

“Merry Christmas,” I say hesitantly, looking over my shoulder at Tom, Jess, and Ethan, who spent two days helping me complete this rush job. With her stunned reaction, I’m not certain how she’s taking it. I turn back to her.

“In the Latino culture, the kitchen is the center of a home, and I noticed in your mother’s house it is too, so I wanted to give that to you. A kitchen is the place a house becomes a home.”

She slowly turns to me, still holding the plate of cookies, and blinks. I take the plate from her hands, worried she’ll drop it, and set it on the new countertop. We took out the oversized table. Her family all chipped in to buy her a new one for Christmas.

“You made me a home,” she whispers. A tear leaks from her eye.