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“Ava,mi vida, why don’t you help me serve dessert?” I say, smiling at her.
Ava’s eyes light up, and we head to the kitchen together. Vicente gives my hand a lingering touch before letting go. I love how he finds a reason to touch me constantly—this connection is like nothing I’ve ever experienced.
Vicente waits for me to return with the ice cream bowls before starting the conversation with Mrs. Evans.
“So, Mrs. Evans,” Vicente begins, “I’m not sure how much you know about Camila and me, but we’re getting married next week.”
Mrs. Evans nods, scooping a bite of her mint chocolate chip ice cream—Ava’s favorite.
“We’re leaving for our honeymoon right after,” he continues, “and we would like for you to join us.”
My eyes widen in surprise. This is news to me.
Vicente catches on to my surprise and has the decency to wince. “I’m sorry, wife. I should have given you the details before blurting them out to Mrs. Evans.”
I let out a deep breath as a smile spreads across my face. I’m grateful that, even though he’s used to doing whatever he wants, he’s starting to think about others’ needs.
From the apologetic look on his face, I can tell this will probably be the last time he makes a decision without consulting me.
I love the idea of Mrs. Evans joining us. She has been helping me with Ava since we moved to this flat. I don’t think she has taken a single holiday all that time.
It’d be great to have her with us in Colombia.
“Mr. Godoy, I thought I was clear with you about this,” Mrs. Evans says, her tone dry but playful. “You’re not my type, and as much as I care for Camila, she isn’t my cup of tea either.”
Vicente lets out a booming laugh that fills the room, and it takes me a moment to catch on. When I do, I burst out laughing too.
Ava remains blissfully unaware, completely focused on her ice cream. Thank God for small mercies.
“No, Mrs. Evans,” Vicente says, still chuckling, “you’re not my type either—Camila is.”
I choke on my ice cream. Damn. Vicente is smooth—and totally my type, too.
“But seriously,” he continues, “the reason we would like you to join us—besides giving you a well-deserved holiday—is because we’d feel better knowing Ava has someone she trusts looking after her at night.
Vicente looks at me for approval before continuing, and I nod.
“You know, just in case.”
Mrs. Evans catches his meaning immediately, her expression softening with something I can’t place, but she seems happy.
“I’d love to go and spend some quality time with my baby girl,” she declares.
Vicente and I grin in unison.
“Yay! Mrs. Evans is coming with us. Hooray!” Ava cheers, pumping her fists in the air.
I’ll enjoy this feeling of peace and happiness tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll worry about the millions of things I need to prepare before we leave.
Chapter 23
Camila Flores
The day is here. I can hardly believe it—I’m marrying Vicente today.
For the past week, he’s had dinner with us every night. In the afternoons, he’s been coming home with me, and Ava lights up every time she sees him. She adores him. Every evening, she recounts her day with an excited energy. Vicente listens so intently, like every word is precious. After dinner, we usually play charades or, if it’s a weekend night, watch a movie.
Last Friday, Ava choseUpfor our family movie. Her reasoning? She declared, “Sometimes Boss Man makes the same frowny faces as Mr. Fredricksen.” I cackled so loud, Mrs. Evans texted us to make sure everything was alright. Vicente feigned hurt, but I could see a small smile tugging at his lips when Ava wasn’t looking.