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So she’d insisted on waking Jett up, getting everyone dressed and out early into the cold, icy morning to wait on snow-covered streets. They’d watched the parade from Rodrigo’s specially arranged VIP seats, and at first, it hadn’t gone too badly. Holding their bundled-up baby in her lap, as they waited for the parade to begin, Lola had felt excitement that exceeded the cold nip of the air. This was exactly the life she’d yearned for when she was younger. This moment. Being a family. Having enough money to be safe and secure. Jett was having the childhood she’d only dreamed of as a girl.
Reaching for Rodrigo’s gloved hand, she’d whispered, “Thank you.”
He looked surprised, then his dark eyes gleamed. “All this for some seats at a parade?”
“You don’t understand.” She blinked hard in the cold air. “My whole childhood, I dreamed of this. The life only rich people could have. To be in New York for the Thanksgiving parade, and see real snow, and eat a pretzel on the street and spend New Year’s Eve in Times Square...”
“You know that you don’t have to be rich for any of that, don’t you?”
“And a big expensive Christmas tree. And a mansion in Beverly Hills.”
“Beverly Hills? Malibu isn’t good enough?”
“I know. That part was silly.” She looked down. “But my first Christmas in LA, when I was still trying to be an actress, I delivered flowers for a shop in Beverly Hills. I saw all these gorgeous mansions decorated for Christmas, and sometimes I’d see the people who lived there. There was one house in particular, once owned by silent film stars. El Corazón, I think it was called. One Christmas Eve I saw the family who lived in it and I dreamed...”
“Dreamed of what?”
Catching herself, she flashed a crooked grin. “Dreamed of their mountains of presents around the tree.”
“Ah.” His voice was amused. “Mountains of presents in a Beverly Hills mansion. That does take money.”
As he took her hand in his own, Lola wouldn’t meet his eyes. Her dream hadn’t been mountains of presents, but something less tangible. She’d seen just a brief flash of the wealthy, perfect family, the handsome husband playing with his children as his wife answered the door in an apron, obviously just come from baking some kind of holiday treats. All of them glowing with health, happiness and love. To Lola, heartbroken over her baby sisters, with just five dollars to her name, that life had seemed as perfect and untouchable as their magnificent manicured gardens beyond the walls.
Lifting a dark eyebrow, Rodrigo said wickedly, his fingers tightening over hers, “But you’re getting ahead of yourself, querida. Santa brings mountains of presents only to those who are good, not naughty like you.”
“Oh, but I’ve been good,” Lola whispered, leaning toward him on the VIP bench as they waited for the parade to begin. Reaching out with her glove, she’d cupped his cheek, still dark with five o’clock shadow as they’d rushed out that morning early with no time for him to shave. “I’ve been very, very good. But maybe I can be even better...”
Rodrigo’s black eyes had gleamed as he leaned down to kiss her.
Then their tired, irritable baby burst into a plaintive cry in Lola’s arms.
She spent the next hour juggling him, with a pacifier and a teething toy. She was so frantic, bouncing him in her lap to keep him from crying, that she barely noticed the enormous balloon floats finally fly past or the marching bands pass by. As Jett continued to fuss, she imagined people around them judging her harshly for bringing a five-month-old baby to sit outside in the freezing cold morning for a parade that took hours. She glared at someone who dared to look at her. She would have yelled something rude, but Rodrigo suddenly took the baby from her.
“Relax,” he told Lola firmly. Then he looked down at the baby in his lap. “Don’t keep your mother from enjoying her parade, mi pequeñito.”
The baby looked up at his father, tears still staining his plump face, his lips parted. But something about the low rumble of Rodrigo’s chest seemed to calm the baby. Frowning, Jett waved a chubby arm in his father’s direction, then chomped quietly on his chew toy, staring up at the big cartoon balloons in the sky.
Lola just stared at them together, tears burning behind her eyes.
After all her years of dreaming about seeing the parade in New York, she barely remembered it afterward. What she remembered was the way Rodrigo had comforted their baby.
After they left, they’d visited an expensive toy store, where Rodrigo ordered thousands of dollars of toys for Jett without once looking at a price. Since Jett wasn’t fussing, it was all enjoyable. Until Lola suggested having the toys delivered to their SoHo loft.
“It’ll be delivered to California,” he said firmly. “That’s our home.”
Lola felt deflated. “I know. But it’s so nice being back in New York. That’s where my friends live. My sisters.”
“My accountant said you
r sisters still haven’t cashed the check you sent them for college. Did the girls ever contact you?”
“Um... No. Not yet.” Her heart tightened. She was trying not to think about that, or what it might mean. She rushed to say, “Maybe they’ve been busy. You know how teenagers can be...”
“They might be thoughtless, but what about their parents?”
Lola thought of the one and only time she’d spoken to her sisters’ adoptive parents, when she’d showed up unannounced at their suburban home seven years before. When, while the girls had clung to their new mother, their father had told Lola to get the hell out before he called the police.
Lola pushed the painful memory away. A lot had changed since then. Surely they would realize they had nothing to fear from her now, and they’d accept her gift? And, you know, send a thank-you note or something?
