I gave a nod, assuring her I would, and then she turned to head back in. But as she crossed the yard, I noticed her eyes pass over toward Marco and his friends again. Maybe I was reading too much into it, but, it seemed to me like someone over there had her attention.
With a message to deliver, I went back to Marco now, walking up as the group laughed at something I missed. However, I'm guessing they hadn't noticed me yet, because I'm pretty sure if they had, they would've changed their conversation.
"Ivy's gonna kill you if all those damn hickeys don't fade by Thursday night, so I hope this chick was worth getting chewed out over." Justin's words seemed to remind Carlos of something he hadn't thought of. However, that look of concern faded quickly, being replaced with a wide grin when he nodded.
"Yeah … she was definitely worth it," he answered, nodding his head to emphasize how sure he was.
"Man, you gotta stop sleeping around with the women who come into the club. It's messy," Marco chimed in.
"Messy maybe," Carlos said back, "but we've all done it. Several times," he added.
And I stopped dead in my tracks at those words. I mean, how naïve of me was it to think Marco had never done such a thing, to think something like that was beneath him. It dawned on me why it'd been so easy to think that. I recalled the conversation we had when he first told me about being a dancer. He made it seem as though it was just business, all just a job, but he'd clearly indulged in its fringe benefits a time or two.
We've all done it … . Those were Carlos's words and Marco didn't object, didn't exclude himself from being categorized among those who had in fact slept with women who came in to watch them dance. But then again … why did I expect anything else.
Touching his arm briefly, Marco's eyes shifted toward me and he was unable to hide the shock. I barely forced a smile to mask what I'd just heard, but I did. "Marcela says your father just arrived with your grandmother."
"Oh … ok, cool. Thanks," he said, sounding unsure of himself, likely wondering if I heard what was said.
I had. I definitely had.
I walked off before Marco did, parting from his friends with my eyes set on the house. My plan was to meet his grandmother and then I needed a breather. From the heat, from all the people, from … everything. There were a good seventy-five people here-most of them extended relatives of the Rios family-with my ten guests sprinkled into the crowd. Mona and Ced would make it twelve once they arrived, which should be any minute. There were aunts and uncles, cousins, second-cousins, and now Marco's only living grandmother who'd arrived by plane last night all the way from Loíza, Puerto Rico.
Marco was right on my heels by the time I reached the door, preparing to open it for me, but instead his family stepped out into the heat before he had the chance. His hand went to the small of my back and I stepped forward, smiling when he introduced me to his grandmother, Perla. Hers was the first name suggestion Mrs. Rios offered for our daughter. This woman, even at the seasoned age of eighty-one, was beautiful, as was the rest of the family.
Perla greeted me with a grin, one that creased deep lines into her sun-kissed skin. That mingling of darker tones contrasted the long, silver hair that swept over her sinewy shoulders when she turned to speak to Marco. I only understood a few of the words-there was something about me being pretty and respectable, which I appreciated, and then her attention shifted downward, in the general direction of my stomach. Marco's eyes went there, too, for a moment and I assumed they were discussing the baby.
Their chat wasn't a very long one. Marco had made it a point to stop by when she first arrived at his parents' home last night, eager to see and catch up with her after almost a full year between this visit and their last. When they were done, Mr. Rios took her arm gently and pressed a kiss to my forehead with a kindly spoken, "Hello, sweetheart," as he passed by, escorting Perla to a poolside lounger. Marco's sisters followed them, leaving Marco and I to stand alone beside the house. A soft smile filled his expression as he watched his family.
While he watched them, I watched him, still hearing his friend's statement, words that did nothing but put things even more into focus for me.
Apparently, I stared just a little too long, a little too hard, because he turned and caught me, leaning in to press his lips to mine right after. He was doing that thing again where he creates the illusion that I was the only person who existed in his world. And when he did, I found myself responding in a way I had been more and more lately-I looked away.
And not because I was afraid for him to see how much I enjoyed his attention. No, I looked away because I was just afraid in general. I found myself wondering what our end game was. While, yes, this all felt right, where would we really end up in the long run?
He didn't think anything of me dismissing myself because I pretended to need something from the kitchen, leaving him outside where the party was. Pushing pink streamers aside, I stepped in where it was about thirty degrees cooler and leaned my hip against the counter. Somehow, I allowed myself to get lost in my feelings and that wasn't supposed to happen today. I told myself that this would be a happy occasion and there was no room for my reoccurring doubts and questions to arise. For today, I tried to put the other side of Marco's life out of my mind and just live in the moment, but … I'm not really good at that.
Never had been.
Seeing that he'd decided to follow me in, I moved to the fridge to maintain my cover. If he didn't see me busy doing something, he'd know my coming in here was a means of escape. I removed the bowl of fruit I sliced up for a snack before bed last night. Taking a fork from the drawer, I quickly shoved a few slivers of kiwi in my mouth, hoping he'd think this was all I'd come inside for.
The sliding door moved quietly through the pathway of its metal-grooved frame and then closed again once Marco was inside.
"You feeling okay?" he asked. "You walked away like something was wrong."
"Nope. Fine. Just craving fruit again." That was believable enough seeing as how that'd been the case for the past couple weeks. Couldn't seem to get enough.
He took steps closer, but I didn't look up. I kept my eyes trained on the bowl of pretty greens, pinks, and oranges and kept eating. If I looked up, I'd feel all those things again-the good and the bad-and I really did want to be happy today.
Warm fingers looped my wrist and my jaws stopped working the chunk of mango between my teeth.
The cool, metal fork was gently maneuvered from my hand and placed inside my bowl. I chewed and swallowed the last bit of mango I held and sucked in a breath at the feel of that same hand that had circled my wrist now directing my hip closer to him. Unable to fight the pull, I did Marco's bidding and released the breath I'd been holding through my nose as my lips collided with his. One soft peck brushed the corner of my mouth following the deeper kiss. Only then did I let myself look into those smoldering eyes.
"You taste sweet," he said just before drawing his bottom lip inside his mouth, savoring the mixture of me and the fruit I'd just eaten.
This was so hard-this pull in two opposite directions. On the one hand, I was head over heels for this man. There was no getting around that. He'd proven himself to be everything I didn't even realize I was looking for in a guy. But then, on the other hand, Marco was every woman's worst nightmare-a guy with the power to steal your heart, who also possesses the power to break it without even realizing what he'd done.
Another hot kiss allowed Marco to burrow his way deeper into my soul whether I liked it or not, but of course I let him. I let him because I loved the feeling almost as much as I feared it.
The doorbell rang, but that wasn't what made us separate. It was the sound of his mother's voice when she called out to let us know she'd answer. Apparently, we had an audience and hadn't realized it. Somehow, we missed that she had chosen to rest from the heat in the dining room where there was a clear view of our position in the kitchen.
A faint smile tugged one corner of my mouth, but I was too deep inside my head to enjoy a real laugh. Marco touched my cheek again and concern marked his expression when he asked a question. "Everything okay?"
Forcing a smile, I nodded my head. "Yeah, I'm fine," I lied. "Let's go see who's at the door," I said next, forcing us away from the conversation this could lead to if he continued to dig, continued to press for real answers.
I heard Marco's footsteps behind me and they were slow, like he was beginning to catch on that something wasn't right, maybe even realizing that I heard Carlos a moment ago. However, I had to put all that behind me because the guests at the door were mine and these two would definitely be looking for signs that something was wrong.