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And then he was kissing me again. As far as I was concerned, he could kiss me forever.
Our hips were still locked when our lips parted. My face was in his palm, tilted up so he could look down into it. His expression said more than words ever could—a ghost of a smile, the heat of his eyes, the softness that only comes when you know someone so well, there’s nothing between you but the truth of who you are, who they are, who you are to each other.
“I think I like making candles,” he said.
“I’d crack a joke about wick dipping, but how about you kiss me instead?”
With a laugh, he did.
And I sighed into him, memorizing the moment to call on when he was gone again.
13
Steamroller Blues
SEBASTIAN
I floated to the hospital with a smile on my face, basking in the lingering joy only a perfect afternoon could provide.
When we finished the batch of candles we were working on, we’d headed out to the flower fields to pick bouquets. Priscilla had helped me put one together for her Abuela, whom she’d met at the hospital yesterday, and after we shared a Goldfish snack and she went down for a nap she didn’t want, I left for home, the bouquet ending up in the passenger seat of my truck where I wished Presley was sitting.
But she had more work to do, and I couldn’t help but be a distraction. I had some work to do on the Goody’s protest anyway via a checklist I’d gotten from Evan. Mom wanted to help too, so I figured we’d make an evening of it when we got home from the hospital.
Until I saw Marnie through Abuela’s window.
With a swear, I clutched Priscilla’s bouquet a little tighter, and made my way inside.
The happy, easy lilt of female voices floated toward me. It was a familiar sound, one that had lived in my home and family for the years Marnie and I were together. And on entering the room, an accompanying familiar sight greeted me.
Near Abuela sat my mother and Marnie, cups of coffee and the remnants of some cafeteria desserts they’d demolished. On my appearance, they quieted in surprise.
Mom caught herself first and smiled, standing to greet me. “Hi, honey. What are you doing home? I thought you were going to be a few more hours.”
“Me too, but they had some stuff going on,” I said, not wanting to be specific for Marnie’s sake.
Mom approached, taking the flowers with a smile. “These are beautiful. Are they from the Blums?”
“Cilla picked them for you, Abuela.”
Mom practically dissolved into a puddle with a smile. “That little girl,” was all she said, and quietly. And then she was on her way to show them to Abuela.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” I said, taking a step toward the exit. “Y’all have your coffee. I’ll come back later.”
But Marnie had moved to stand. “No, it’s okay. I was just about to leave anyway.”
Abuela held up her hands. “Vienes aquí, mija—abrázame.”
With a smile heavy with love and longing, Marnie did as Abuela had asked, giving her a hug.
“Don’t wait so long before coming to see me again.” Abuela said, holding Marnie hostage for a minute with her sinewy, freakishly strong arms.
“I promise,” Marnie said.
I averted my eyes, turning to leave as she said her goodbyes to Mom, not wanting to intrude any more than I already had. Because when Marnie left me, she left my family too. And whether they agreed with her or not, and no matter how complicated things were, they never stopped loving her. Nor did I suspect she quit loving them.
“Could I … talk to you?” Marnie asked from behind me, though she didn’t stop walking, nodding toward the hall.
I took the cue. When we were out of earshot, she turned to me, met my eyes, drew a long breath to fuel whatever she was about to say.
She was so familiar to me, a woman I’d known all my life. A woman I’d loved. A woman I’d hurt. A woman who had hurt me. Her face was one I knew better than my own. The blue of her eyes, smattered with shards of green. The shape of her jaw, the slightest cleft in her chin, the flush of her cheeks that I’d seen under circumstances of love, of lust, of fury.
“My lawyer brought them by after you left. I needed to come see Abuela, make sure she was okay, and I was going to leave these with your mom, but since you’re here …” She reached into her huge bag and offered me a folio. “The settlement papers.”
I took it with a mute nod. Flipped it open. Walked to the hall table and retrieved a pen from one of the drawers. Without reading, I initialed where indicated, signed where I was supposed to.
