Page 39 of Who's Loving You
“I bet you’re a mouthful,” I hear him mumble and jerk to a stop.
With narrowed eyes, I look over my shoulder, conveying everything without a word.
“Sorry. It slipped…Val.” He winks and I smile.
This boy is a handful, that’s for sure, and I don’t know if I can handle that.
The lights are slightly dim in the restaurant to set a romantic mood, and though there are lots of voices all speaking at once, it’s but a murmur as guests work to keep their conversations private.
Our meal has been fabulous, and the conversation very surface as we get to know about one another. I decided it would be good to learn a thing or two in case we were to be asked questions. I would hate for either of us to be caught off guard and stare blankly, trying to come up with an answer that seems to fit.
So far I’ve found out that Nico –I mean Nic– has twobest friends with the same name. Nick and Nik. In their younger years they became known as the Trickie Nickie’s for all of their antics. Throughout the years it just stuck as the mischievous activities didn’t slow.
His parents seem absolutely amazing, and I scratched my head at how two people so normal and fit the American dream, raised such a wild child. His mom, Elena, is hispanic and a complete knockout. He showed me a picture of his mother and father, and I immediately saw that Nic got the best of both of them. Mark, his father, is the pure definition of tall, dark and handsome. Mark’s dad is black while his mom is caucasian. The man was blessed with amazing eyes which he evidently passed on to his son.
Nic also showed me a picture of his younger sister, Greer, the female version of Nic as they look like they could be twins. When I saidwowupon seeing her, he said,“I know. When she went away to college, it took everything in me not to transfer schools to protect her from douchey college guys.”
“So guys like you,”I fired back and was met with a smirk and an eye roll.
His family is picture perfect and fits their last name to a T. My family…well. They’re amazing, no doubt, but a little crazy. I guess that’s the standard for a majority of Spanish families.
Desserts are placed in front of us and I practically drool. Chocolate lava leaks from a small crack in the chocolate soufflé. Powdered sugar, and a small raspberry with a mint leaf sit atop. Nic’s dessert looks equally delicious, a layered crepe cake with chocolate ganache. I would love to taste it, but there is no way I’m asking for a bite. He will absolutely turn it into something dirty.
I sink my spoon into the top and watch the hot chocolate ooze out.
“Your grandparents immigrated from Spain?” he asks just before slicing into his sky high dessert.
Swallowing down the mouthful of gooeyness, I nod my head. “Mmhmm,” I mumble and clear my throat. “My mother’s parents did. My father’s were here long before that.”
“And many of them went back to Spain to find a spouse?” His eyebrows are knitted closely together with astonishment.
“I mean, yeah, but not like an arranged marriage or anything. We still have a lot of family back in Spain, so trips are frequent. It just so happens that much of our family found spouses there. Some moved back, some stayed.” I dive in and take a large bite, closing my eyes on a moan.
When I open them, I spot Nic watching me nervously. He stares at my mouth and I see his Adam’s apple bob when he swallows.
“Oh. So, um. Yeah. What was I saying?” He gives his head a little shake and blinks his eyes. “But your parents met here. In the US.”
“Yes. Through mutual friends.”
“And your sister went to Spain and found a man. But he was also from the US and just on vacation?”
“Yup. Pretty crazy, right?” The story of my family is strange to most, I know, but for us it’s just a normal “meet cute” story in the San Ramón family.
“Does that mean you’ll go to Spain, too, to find your husband?” His question brings me pause.
If he only knew the number of times my family has tried to encourage meeting a man while visiting, or the set-ups they’ve attempted, his head would spin.
My older sister, Esmeralda, has tried to set me up with her husband’s cousin, but the unibrow was a big no for me. My younger sister, Alba, came back from Spain engaged and informed me that her soon-to-be husband had a dreamy brother. But Vicenté was not the gentleman that his brother Teodoro was.
Teodoro Castillo is sweet and loving and so chivalrous. An ideal match for Alba. But there is a reason why Vicenté Castillo is still single at the age of thirty-two. He’s arrogant and demanding and even though he’s very handsome, I could not stand to be with a man who thought I was his property and as such, I was to serve him. I’m no one’s little concubine, and never will be. The asshole wants a wife whose sole purpose is to exist only for him.
That is not me.
“I don’t have plans to marry anytime soon. And when I do, it will be someone of my choosing, no matter the ethnicity, race or religion.”
“But it would help if you brought home a devilishly good looking man with some hispanic roots to Paloma and Ricardo?”
My face is impassive, understanding exactly what he is talking about.