Chapter Eleven
Christina
"Merry Christmas, mija."
I stretch my arms above me as I slowly open my eyes. Andrés is lying beside me, and even though I know he spent the night in the other room, I try to pretend he was with me all night long.
"Merry Christmas," I say as I inhale the tempting aroma of warm butter and cinnamon. "Something smells good."
"Mmmm," he answers as he massages my lower back. "I made you breakfast."
I roll into him and wrap my arms around his neck, nuzzling that little patch of hair on his chest with my nose. He is warm and inviting, and as I press my ear against his chest, I can hear the steady and reassuring beat of his heart. I sigh into him. He kisses my temple and continues to rub my back. How nice it would be to lie here together all day long, but I know my family is waiting for us in San Antonio. Andrés is supposed to help my stepdad prepare dinner, and my mom and I are going to decorate the dining room. I can't wait to try out my new designer skills today. This is, after all, what I'm supposed to be doing for my new career.
Despite the stress from the wedding and the pregnancy, I have the feeling today will be my best Christmas ever. This holiday has never meant much to me, mainly because I spent most Christmases listening to my adoptive mother and father getting drunk and swearing at each other. But this time is different. This time I'll be surrounded by people I love who love me back. In some ways, it feels like I'll be celebrating my very first Christmas, and the excitement rises in me like effervescent bubbles. I have a lot to be thankful for. I squeeze Andrés's neck tighter, and giggle when he tickles my ribcage. I spring from the bed, feeling like a child anxious to open presents from Santa.
But my excitement is short-lived as I'm hit by a wave of dizziness. I fall back onto the bed and groan.
"Should I bring you breakfast in bed?" he asks, concern lacing each word.
"No, just give me a minute," I say as I close my eyes and will the nausea to subside.
"Your breakfast is ready, mija. I'll go get it."
Andrés rolls out of bed with an ease that makes me jealous and he returns a few minutes later with a tray of food. Mmmm. It smells even better close up. I can't believe the spread he's made: French toast, eggs, hash browns, and real pork bacon (not the fake crap). Best of all is the steaming cup of coffee, which looks to be twice the size of my daily limit, but I'm not complaining.
He props up some pillows behind me and my mouth waters as he sets the tray down. I scoot up against the headboard and reach for my coffee. I frown at the tea bag floating in the liquid.
"Got it at the vitamin store. It's supposed to help with morning sickness," Andrés says, as he puffs up his chest, looking adorably proud of himself. "I sweetened it with honey."
"Thanks," I say, stunned. "I guess it's worth a try." I try not to make a face as I swallow the bitter liquid. I've never been a big fan of tea, but since Andrés went through all the trouble, I know I'll have to finish it. Besides, the sweet honey makes the flavors somewhat bearable, and masks most of the funky aftertaste.
I close my eyes and take several sips, while I tell my morning sickness to piss off. After a few minutes, and nearly half the cup, I feel slightly better, so I open my eyes to see my smiling fiancé holding a forkful of French toast topped with syrup and whipped cream just below my chin. I open my mouth and gladly take a bite, groaning as I bite into cinnamon, warm butter and cream. Damn, he can cook.
I savor the flavors as long as possible before begging for more. Andrés and I share the rest of the meal this way, and morning sickness be damned, I eat until I can't fit in another bite. After I take a quick shower and get dressed, I find Andrés in the kitchen, cleaning the last of the pots and pans. I feel bad I didn't get to help, but I doubt I can work at his speed anyway. It is as if life is in slow motion, and I don't have the energy to do much in the morning.
Andrés hands me another steaming cup, and this time I smile in relief when I smell the aroma of roasted almonds and vanilla. I take a deep drink, savoring the richness as if it's the last cup of coffee I'll ever drink.
Andrés watches me drink with this expectant look in his eyes, and the nervous energy roils off his skin in waves. My chest tightens and my heart starts to race. It's present time!
He wordlessly reaches for my hand, and I follow him into the living room. My last thought before we sit beside the small tree sitting on top of a side table is I hope Andrés likes what I got him. But before I can give him his present, he pulls a small box, wrapped in red velvet and topped with a gold bow, from behind the tree. I gasp as I take it from his outstretched hand while looking deeply into his warm eyes, swirling with amber and honeyed gold flecks.