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I step back and hand her the flowers. It’s a bouquet I picked up from the florist on my way here, a cluster of white petals shot through with a verdant leaf. As she brings them to her nose and takes a sniff, I wish I’d gotten her something more vibrant. They pale in comparison to her.
“These are gorgeous. Thank you.” She smiles up at me, and it’s that smile. The one she gave Sol that day in my office. But, it’s got a little secret behind it tonight, and I can’t help but think of this as my very own.
She steps aside. “Please, come in.” I look around the house. I notice she’s put little touches of herself into the space. I see a small painting of a girl en pointe in her pink ballet shoes. There are a couple of framed pictures on the dining room table that she’s turned into her workstation. I see her bright red shawl, one that she wears almost every day at the office, hanging on the back of the chair. And there is a row of multi-colored vases on the kitchen counter. She grabs one of them and fills it with water for the flowers.
“I’m glad you’re making yourself at home,” I say as I walk into the living room.
She turns to me and looks up at me, her smile a little less bright, but her eyes full of light. “No one has ever bought me flowers before.”
“That’s a crime.”
She scoffs quietly, “Hardly. Let me put these in some water before we go. They’ll be so pretty on my dining table.” She grabs one of the multi-colored vases from her counter and fills it with water. She handles the flowers with a gentleness that borders on reverence. “Thank you so much for these.” When she looks at me, her large eyes are luminous and questioning.
“Lucía…” I’m not sure what I want to say, but drawn by a force that I can’t resist, I take a step closer to her.
A loud ding sounds from my pocket, and the moment is broken. I pull it out and see that it’s a calendar alert Liza created for our reservation tonight. “We better get going, if we’re going to make it in time for dinner.”
She sighs and looks like she is about to say something. But she doesn’t. She just grabs her purse and heads out the door.
Once we’re seated, Lucía twists and turns, taking in the restaurant and ambiance. I’ve been here before. I know the view is amazing, but seeing the excitement in her eyes as she takes it all in makes me feel like I’m seeing it again for the first time.
The tide is moving to a rhythm that the moon demands. I watch as the waves rise and break in front of us. Then, I look at Lucía who is even more beautiful than the magnificent display of nature that serves as the restaurant’s backdrop. The waitress takes our orders, fills both of our glasses with a delicious California sauvignon blanc and then leaves us alone.
“So, tell me what happened with Coco,” I ask right away.
She looks startled, but smiles gamely.
“He came on to me. And I think it’s best to nip this is in the bud now before something really uncomfortable happens,” she says simply.
“What do you mean? Did he say something?” My good humor is completely gone.
She winces a little.
“No. I mean…I just know when a man is looking at me in a way he shouldn’t. I don’t want things to get any more awkward than they are already.” She squares her shoulders. “I know he’s your cousin. I’m not trying to disparage him.” She sounds defensive. And I don’t like it. I want to nip that in the bud immediately.
“Hey, you don’t need to explain yourself. Yeah, he’s my cousin but that has nothing to do with knowing the difference between right and wrong.”
Her shoulders lose some of their tension and realization dawns. “Did you think I was going to ask you for evidence. Or try to defend him?”
“I don’t know.” She pauses and looks down. Then she looks back up at me and her eyes are full of uncertainty.
“I want to ask you something, but I’m not sure if it’s a good idea,” she says and she worries her lower lip with her teeth.
“You can ask me anything.” And I mean it. I’ll answer whatever she asks me, honestly.
She looks skeptical, but says, “You didn’t say why you wanted to have dinner. It wasn’t exactly an invitation. More like . . . my boss ordering me to have dinner with him.”
The straightforward question, the unexpectedness of it, catches me by surprise.
She’s really this innocent. She really doesn’t have an agenda. She has no clue I’m one of the men who is looking at her the way he shouldn’t. “I know I’m not your type.” She says type with air quotes.
If she knew how untrue that was, she might be afraid. She’s not my type, she’s something much better. I wouldn’t have been able to dream her up if I’d tried. She’s fucking charming. And I’m completely bewitched by her.
“I can’t read you. I don’t know what you want from me. But I know it’s not just to make this movie. So, if it’s not sex, I don’t know what else it cou
ld be.”
Oh God, I want so much more than sex from her. I can’t say that to her, at least not yet. So, I answer as honestly as I can.
