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But my life is so much richer now. So much fuller. It’s like I had lived life in a sketchbook, in lines of gray and black, but now someone’s taken a paintbrush and added full, beautiful, vibrant color.
We tabled Raul’s idea of merging businesses while we handled things in court with Toni, but as of today, everything’s a go. Samantha’s waiting for me at the shop. We’re all celebrating tonight at my place. I’m cooking, Samantha’s made a cake, and I think Raul even got a cotton candy machine or something. Samantha’s even invited her grandparents to visit me, which feels like a pretty monumental thing.
“Remember,” she says, as we walk hand in hand down the road. “Grandpa hates the Yankees. Like, those jokes about the Red Sox/Yankees rivalry? It isn’t a joke to him. Not even close.”
“Noted. And honestly, I share those sentiments myself.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah, babe.”
“There are many things I still need to find out about you, Mr. Santiago.”
“In due time, just don’t go looking up my records on the Caribbean and we’re good.”
She gives me a curious look. I wink at her, and she playfully smacks my arm.
We arrive at my place to balloons strung up outside, party music blaring through speakers, and the smell of cinnamon sugar wafting through the kitchen.
“Wow, so they really did this up nice, eh?” I ask Samantha.
“I think it was Raul’s idea.”
That makes me snort. “Yeah, it was as much Raul’s idea as it was Winnie’s, hmm?”
Both of them have been working full-time on a laundry list of items I’ve given them, not the least of which has been getting the legal paperwork together for Toni to take my name, for registering her in school, and arranging visitation with her mother when she’s ready. It won’t be a perfect situation, and we’ll have more challenges to navigate, I have no doubt. But what family is perfect? Who doesn’t have some challenges to work through? So we do the best we can, arranging for Toni to get the help she needs through this adjustment, but the truth is, she’s doing amazingly well. She keeps us on our toes, that girl.
“Okay, so they’re almost here,” Samantha says, wringing her hands nervously. “Nothing about the Yankees, I swear to God, Miguel…”
“Babe.” I spin her out in front of me so that she looks up at me with those big, beautiful eyes of hers. She sometimes ditches her glasses for contacts, and today’s one of those days. Though I love her when she wears glasses, I like that the contacts give me a fuller view of her eyes. “Don’t worry about me. I won’t troll your Gramps, okay? Can you trust me?”
She looks up at me, and a soft smile curves her lips up. “Yes, of course.” She sighs. “It’s just that everything’s already so perfect. I want it to stay that way.”
I brush my lips against her cheek. “Things won’t stay this way. We’ll fuck up. We’ll make mistakes. But the important thing is that we work through it, no matter what.”
“Deal.”
“Oh my God, is that my sweet granddaughter being corrupted by the billionaire?”
Sam groans. Guess Gramps and Grandma have arrived.
I turn to see a tall, thin man with surprisingly dark hair tinged with gray approaching us. He hobbles with a cane but smiles readily. Samantha shares her grandpa’s vibrant eyes, and when I see her grandma next to him, I know where she got that cute little nose.
I hold her with one arm as I turn to greet them.
“Hello, you two!” Samantha says, so pleased to see them she’s nearly dancing a jig. “Meet my husband. No! I mean, meet my Miguel.” She shakes her head, curses under her breath, and grins. “This is Miguel. My soon-to-be-husband.”
Fucking adorable.
“Well done, young man,” Gramps says, giving me a firm handshake that belies his older years. “Never thought I’d meet a man who could render the woman speechless, but here you are.”
His wife rolls her eyes, gives me a huge, warm hug, and we all head inside. Madison and Allie swoop in and take everyone into the kitchen like they own the place. Toni chases Prince, and nearly races right past Sam’s grandparents.
“Toni,” Samantha calls. “Hey, Toni!”
Toni stops. She looks at all of us with curiosity. She’s got a smudge of chocolate ice cream on her sleeve, and she somehow lost her shoes, but her hair’s still miraculously braided. She sat still for a very long time while I braided her hair this morning. I was never into that kinda shit, but Samantha turns into a puddle of Sam mush when I do, which makes it worth every minute.
“This must be Toni,” Gramps says warmly.
Toni puts her hand out politely, like we practiced. “Pleased to meet you.” She smiles. “You’re the Red Sox fan, right? Can we go to a game one of these days?”
