Page 21 of Curious Hearts (The Healing Hearts #2)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“You’re glowing,” Yaya announced the moment Ali stepped through the door. “Like a lamp someone finally remembered to plug in.”

Ali felt heat creep up her neck as she hung her jacket on the coat rack. The Vargas home hummed with its usual Sunday energy—voices layered over mariachi music from the kitchen radio, the scent of Yaya’s famous flan mingling with fresh tortillas.

“I’m not glowing,” Ali protested, though she knew her smile probably gave her away.

She’d been floating since her evening with Jessica, replaying every word, every movement.

It was ridiculous they had been putting up shelves, but there was no mistaking the way that Jessica had looked at her.

Her libido had been dulled after Amy, the breakdown, and everything that came with it, but a brief fling with a Mexican wrestler, Marisol, had confirmed it was a long way from dead.

And that night there was no way of mistaking Jessica’s glances in her direction as anything other than hunger. It had all started with that dress.

“Ha!” Yaya’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “You look like you swallowed the sun. Come, sit. Tell Yaya everything.”

“Yaya, leave her alone,” Fenna called from the kitchen, but her voice carried amusement. “She just got here.”

Ali let herself be guided to Yaya’s favorite armchair, the elderly woman’s grip surprisingly firm on her elbow. Kristi appeared with a glass of wine, Usha balanced on her hip.

“Don’t think we’re not going to ask,” Kristi warned, settling on the sofa as Fenna came through and joined them, Flor snuggled into her chest. “You’ve been very quiet about what has been happening with Jessica.”

“It was good,” Ali said with a shrug. “The family dinner was interesting. Her parents are intense people and there was this guy there they want her to marry…” She looked up to see everyone’s smiles falter.

“But it’s okay, She’s not interested in him.

” She paused, unable to contain her huge, childish grin.

“But the dress was a hit and I’m pretty sure she’s interested in me.

We nearly had a moment the other night… or at least I’m pretty sure we did but Empress kind of got in the middle of us. ”

Yaya let out rush of air, which would have been a whistle if her lips were thirty years younger and her teeth fitted properly. The old woman wasn’t even slightly interested in the cats and impatience was taking over. “So tell me, did you kiss her? This woman with the cats.”

“Yaya!” Fenna admonished, but she was leaning forward too, clearly interested.

“What? I am old. I don’t have time for subtle. I could be dead tomorrow, I need to know these things.” Yaya fixed Ali with her penetrating gaze. “Did you kiss the beautiful investment woman of yours?”

Ali took a large sip of wine. “No. We didn’t kiss.”

“But?” Yaya prompted.

“But...” Ali felt her cheeks burn. “I felt it. The way she was looking at me. Her hand kept touching mine, like by accident, but not. There’s... something there.”

“Something?” Kristi bounced Usha gently, her expression creasing in concern, as though she was worried Ali might be imagining an attraction. “That’s vague.”

“I was about to ask if I could kiss her,” Ali admitted, the words tumbling out. “Like I could tell it was right...”

“But?” Fenna asked.

“Empress jumped on her lap,” Ali shrugged, “and it’s the first time she’s ever done that.”

Yaya sat, her mouth open and a confused expression flashing across her face.

“And you couldn’t come between a woman and her cat,” Kristi said, understanding.

Ali’s smile slipped. “Exactly, I’m there to facilitate that bonding. That’s what Vivian is paying me to do—from the grave.”

Yaya frowned as though she was considering this, then held up her hand, halting any further conversation. “I think this Vivian was a wise woman, yes?”

Ali nodded, but before she could explain more, Yaya laughed.

“Cats!” she said and laughed again, waving her hand as though it was the most preposterous thing she had ever heard.

“When you get old like us you understand time is precious, and this is the lesson we need to teach we before we die…” She gave a huff of air. “Or maybe afterwards.”

Ali exchanged glances with Kristi and Fenna, who both just shrugged, as though being cryptic was a privilege that came with age.

“But you feel this thing between you, yes?” Yaya asked as she grasped her hands. Ali nodded. “This is good. Progress! And today? Have you spoken today?”

Ali shook her head. “No, I didn’t want to seem too eager?—”

“Nonsense!” Yaya waved dismissively. “You think my Fernando waited to seem ‘not eager’? He showed up at my father’s house every day for two weeks with flowers until I agreed to walk with him.”

“That’s different, Yaya. This is... complicated.”

“Love is always complicated,” Yaya said firmly. “That’s how you know it’s real. Now, you text her. Right now.”

“Yaya—”

“No arguments. You young people with your games, your ‘waiting three days,’ your ‘not seeming eager.’” She made a disgusted sound. “My Fernando knew what he wanted. He pursued it.”

Fenna smiled. “She’s right, you know. Life is short. Just ask the parents of the children I work with. They’d tell you the same. If you feel it, say it.”

“Fine,” Ali sighed, pulling out her phone. “What do I say?”

“The truth,” Yaya said simply. “That you’re thinking of her.”

Ali typed quickly before she could lose her nerve, although she opted for safer wording.

Hope you’re having a good day.

She hit send, heart hammering.

“Good,” Yaya nodded approvingly. “Ah, now I teach you the rules for winning a woman’s heart.”

“Oh God,” Kristi laughed. “Here we go.”

Yaya raised a finger. “First, consistency. You cannot blow hot and cold like mountain weather. Second, small gestures. My Fernando brought me one flower every day—not big bouquets, just one perfect bloom.”

“I’ve always thought that was so romantic,” Fenna admitted.

“I should have done that with you,” Kristi said, grimacing.

“You had my heart in San Jose… I didn’t need flowers.” Fenna gave her wife a wink.

“That’s enough now. This is about my Ali. Third,” Yaya continued, “you must bring her to meet the family. She must come to dinner. I need to make sure her intentions toward my almost-granddaughter are honorable.”

The room erupted in laughter.

“Yaya, you can’t interrogate her,” Ali protested.

“You are precious to us, mija. This woman must understand.”

Ali’s phone buzzed. Jessica’s name lit up the screen, and her heart skipped.

I was just thinking about you. Would you like to come to dinner tomorrow night?

Ali stared at the message, warmth flooding through her.

“Well?” Yaya demanded. “What does she say?”

“She... she wants me to come over tomorrow night… for dinner.”

“Excellent!” Yaya beamed. “You see? Let things come from here,” the old woman tapped Ali’s chest, “and it will always be okay. But first, you eat. You’re too skinny for romance. No stamina.”

As if on cue, Elena appeared with platters of food—enchiladas, rice, beans, and in the center, Yaya’s famous flan, golden and perfect.

“Ali’s in love,” Kristi announced cheerfully.

“I’m not—we barely—it’s just—” Ali stammered.

Yaya reached over and covered Ali’s hand with her own. The deeper, weathered skin stark against Ali’s pale skin. “You thought you couldn’t love again after that girl broke you.”

Ali’s throat tightened. “Yaya...”

“No, you must listen. You aren’t that bird with broken wings, not now. All that love you poured into animals, it has made you whole again.”

“I was protecting myself,” Ali whispered.

“Protecting yourself from living,” Yaya corrected gently. “But here?” She tapped Ali’s chest again. “In here beats the heart of an eagle. Brave, fierce, full of love to give. Don’t let fear clip your wings again, mija.”

Ali blinked back tears. The room seemed to fill with a heavy silence, everyone had gone quiet. Even the twins seemed to sense the moment’s gravity.

“She scares me,” Ali admitted. “Jessica. She’s so put-together, so different from me. What if?—”

“What if the sun doesn’t rise tomorrow?” Yaya interrupted. “The one who thinks too much, achieves too little. What if, what if. You cannot live on what-ifs.”

“But I barely survived last time?—”

“You did survive,” Fenna said softly. “And you built something beautiful from that pain. The foundation. Think of the people you have helped. The animals…”

“Including yourself,” Kristi added.

Yaya nodded. “My grandmother used to say, ‘The heart that has been broken and mended is stronger than the one that has never known pain.’ You are stronger now, mija. Strong enough to risk again.”

Ali wiped her eyes, laughing shakily. “When did Sunday dinner become group therapy?”

“Since always,” Elena called from the kitchen. “Now eat before it gets cold.”

They dug into the feast, and Ali told them about Mr. Darcy’s dinner table performance, Jessica’s mother’s horror, the way Jessica had looked in that burgundy dress. Although, she carefully omitted the shower activities that followed.

“She could be good for you,” Fenna declared. “Someone grounded to balance your spontaneity. And James Taylor’s bark is worse than his bite! I’ve worked on a few cases with him. You take no notice.”

“What about Dr. Mehta-Taylor?” Ali asked, biting her bottom lip. Truth be told, she found Jessica’s mother far more intimidating than her father.

“Her, I don’t know,” admitted Fenna. “But you are dating Jessica, not her mother.”

“I’m not dating anyone…” said Ali. “Not yet.”

Ali’s phone buzzed again: Seven work? I want to cook for you again.

Her heart fluttered. “She wants to cook for me.”

“She cooks?” Yaya looked impressed. “This is good. A woman who feeds you is a woman who cares for you.”

Ali typed back: Perfect. Should I bring anything?

The response was immediate: Just yourself.

Ali’s cheeks flamed as she typed: I’m looking forward to it.

“Look at her face!” Kristi exclaimed. “She’s so gone for this woman.”

“Leave her be,” Elena said, finally joining them at the table. “Love should be celebrated.”

“It’s not love,” Ali protested. “It’s just... attraction. I don’t know, maybe it’s just—the possibility.”

“Possibility,” Yaya mused. “Yes, that’s where love begins. In the space between what is and what could be.”

As they finished dinner, Ali helped clear plates, her mind already racing ahead to the next day. What would she wear? What would they talk about? Would they finally kiss?

“Stop overthinking,” Fenna murmured, reading her expression. “Just be yourself.”

“Myself is a disaster who trips over her own feet and says inappropriate things when nervous.”

“And apparently that’s exactly what she likes,” Kristi pointed out.

When it was time to leave, Yaya pulled Ali into a fierce hug. “You bring her to dinner,” she commanded. “I need to see this woman who makes my granddaughter glow.”

“I will,” Ali promised. “If things go well.”

“They will,” Yaya said confidently. “I know in my bones.” The old woman gave Ali a quick wink as she left, leaving her wondering if perhaps wisdom really did come with age.

As she drove home her phone buzzed one more time: Fair warning—the cats have been extremely judgmental today. I think they know something’s happening.

Ali laughed, typing at a red light: They’re excellent judges of character. I’ll trust their assessment.

They already approved of you. It’s me they’re questioning.

Smart cats, Ali sent back, grinning.

She thought about Yaya’s words as she navigated Sunday traffic. The heart of an eagle. Was she really brave enough? As she pictured Jessica, Ali realized she might not have a choice.