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I walk to the counter. “Sure.”
As I turn to the sink and start washing my hands, my mom shoots me a mischievous grin. “They look like they’re getting cozy in there.”
I smile tightly. “Hopefully not too cozy. They’d better keep the holy spirit between them. We don’t want Sofi to get pregnant.”
My mom wrinkles her nose as she fluffs the rice. “Don’t be gross. As if Brandon would ever do that.”
I smile. “I don’t know, Mom. Sounds like he was pretty wild before he became a pastor.”
She chuckles as she turns off the heat under the pot. “Stop it, Mari, before I come over there and spank you. I don’t want Brandon hearing you talk like this.”
“I’m his intern now.” I shoot her a smile. “We’re practically besties.”
Her delighted smile makes my stomach drop. She loves that I’m working for him now.
It gives her hope for me.
“He told your dad you’re the fastest learner he’s ever met, even compared to the people he knew in the business world.”
I snort. “That has the hand of Dad all over it. Brandon probably said, ‘She’s doing fine,’ and Dad was like, ‘My daughter is a genius.’”
“No.” Her voice is hushed. “We don’t need our kids to be geniuses. It doesn’t take a genius to be a strong woman of God.”
Her words hit me like a punch in the gut, making me momentarily senseless to the world around me.
Why does it hurt so much to hear her say something like that? I know that’s my parents’ biggest priority, and it doesn’t come purely from judgment. They’re genuinely fearful that I’ll go to hell if I don’t change my ways.
But fuck. She knows whatmypriorities are. She knows I want to travel the world and learn about every scrap of human history. She knows I want to be a professor someday.
She doesn’t care. The parts of myself that are so meaningful to me are nothing to her.
I’m still in a fog by the time dinner starts. It isn’t difficult to tune everyone out. As usual, they’re all vying for Brandon’s attention. Mom has a million questions for him. Even Abuelita is making occasional comments when she’s usually shy around him. They’re all making an extra effort, because they must sense that he’s being more attentive to Sofia, and they’re encouraging him. They want him to officially become part of the family.
They want him to be Sofi’s husband.
Dad turns to Brandon with a smile. “How’s Mari doing in her new position? She hasn’t caused a church schism yet, has she?”
My dad shoots me a teasing glance, and I give him the same long stare I’ve been giving him since I was twelve years old.
“I don’t know how to respond to Dad jokes, Hector,” Brandon says. “Am I supposed to make one back?”
Chuckles break out around the table, and Sofi smiles up at him. “He’s had over thirty years of practice. They just roll off the tongue for him.”
Dad takes a sip of his wine. “Brandon will understand soon. He won’t be a single man forever.”
Dad’s pointed glance at Sofia makes my skin crawl. Why can’t he be more subtle than this? Why isn’t he even slightly self-conscious about his overt intervention in all his kids’ lives?
Brandon smiles. “I’m not going to respond to that, so I’ll answer your question as if you asked it in good faith. No, Mariana has not caused a schism. She’s an excellent volunteer. I’ve barely had to explain anything to her, and just last week she organized my entire office library. We’re lucky to have her.”
Warmth fills my chest at his words, though I try not to let it show. Our gazes meet for a brief moment. There’s that familiar softness in those inky-dark eyes. I hate that it makes my stomach flutter.
Sofia leans in to whisper something to him, and he turns away. The warmth inside me abruptly fades, replaced by a cold emptiness.
I push my salad around my plate, my throat so tight I couldn’t take a bite if I wanted to.
Dad chuckles. “Well, hopefully by the end of this, it will be good for her too. Maybe you can bring her back to the Lord.”
I grow still, and my cheeks burn. There was no mistaking the passive aggression in that statement, as much as he was trying to sound playful.
