Page 80 of Deceptive Desires

When his hand meets mine, it’s damp with sweat. I’ve never known Roman to sweat.

He takes a shaky breath as he leads me on a path around the house. I’m too caught up in wondering what has him worried to take in the view.

Until we get to the ‘greenhouse.’

It’s not a greenhouse at all. It’s an outdoor courtyard garden. Every beautiful flower, herb, bush, and tree that can be grown in Boston is here. And they meld together so perfectly.

In the middle of the ground is a mosaic, but I can’t make out what it is with the brown blanket strewn over half of it. On the blanket is a picnic basket, the one we use when we go to the park.

And all around the courtyard, there are hundreds of candles. All lit, casting a warm glow.

It’s ethereal. I feel like I’m standing in a garden from a Greek mythology tale. I certainly don’t feel like I’m in Boston.

I turn in circles trying to take it in. Roman gently leads me by the small of my back through the garden. I slowly walk taking in every plant. They’re gorgeous.

“Pick out the ones you like, and we’ll get them.” His soft voice flows in my ear.

I look at him and notice he’s not taking in the beautiful sight, no, he’s taking in the sight of me.

I blush and let him guide me to the picnic blanket.

“Before we start dinner, there’s something I need to ask you,” he says.

Then he coughs, clearing his throat. He shifts his weight from each leg, and I can feel the nerves radiating off of him.

I grab his hands in mine to stop the trembling.

“Deep breaths with me. We’re going to do a box breathing technique. In, one… two… three… four. Hold, one… two… three… four. Out, one… two… three… four. Hold, one… two… three… four,” I talk him through the meditation sequence.

We do it four more times until he’s back to a normal shade and isn’t trembling. Then he steps back.

He gets down on one knee.

Grabs my hands.

And my heart freezes.

“Cecilia María, sabía que te quería desde el primer momento en que te vi,” he starts, then pinches his face in concentration, reaches into his back pocket, and pulls out a sheet of paper.

Cecilia María, I knew I wanted you from the first moment I laid eyes on you.

“No me distraigo ni paro mi trabajo para ayudar a desconocidos. Pero me llamaste tu héroe, y nada pudo detenerme,” he continues, butchering every beautiful Spanish word that falls from his lips.

I don’t get distracted or stop work to help strangers. But you called me your hero, and nothing could stop me.

“Seguiste diciéndome héroe, y cuanto más lo escuchaba, más quería ser eso para ti.”

You continued calling me hero, and the more I heard it, the more I wanted to be that for you.

Tears well in my eyes.

“Nadie me ha visto nunca como tú. Nadie me ha hecho querer ser mejor hombre.”

No one's ever seen me the way you do. No one's ever made me want to be a better man.

He clears his throat.

“Estaba tan perdido hasta que te conocí. No me di cuenta de lo frío y vacío que era mi vida. No me di cuenta de qué no sabía lo qué era el amor. Hasta tú.”