Say Forever(76)

Andrés sweeps his hand in front of us as he calls to the crowd. "Fresh snow imported from north Texas for my lovely bride."

The crowd breaks into applause. My little brothers are squealing and running around like puppies chasing their tails, begging my mom and stepdad to take them down the hill.

I'm too stunned to say anything as one of the teens comes up to us, handing Andrés a yellow plastic sled.

Andrés turns to me and arches a brow, his dark eyes looking far too sexy beneath that black woolen cap. "You ready to go riding?"

At the moment, I think I'd much rather be riding my new husband, as I bat my lashes and smile seductively up at him. "I can't believe you did all this."

His eyes light with desire as he strokes the side of my face with a gloved hand. "I'll do anything to make you happy." When he cups my chin and plants a tender kiss on my lips, I lean into his warmth, wrapping my arms around his neck. The plastic sled hits the ground as Andrés places his hand on the small of my back and bends me back while deepening the kiss and setting my body on fire.

I think I hear cheering and whistling behind me, but it's soon drowned out by the sound of the snow blowers and the wild beating of my heart.


***


Seven years later


Christina

“Again, Daddy, again!” James squeals as he and Andrés come to a stop at the bottom of the hill.

It’s only after my husband lifts our son off the sled and sets his little feet on the ground that I breathe a sigh of relief. Andrés says I worry too much, but I can’t help it. Though he’s only four years old, James is quite the daredevil. Doc finally removed his arm cast last week after he fell out of that tree while trying to catch my brothers.

“I wanna be like Gio and Manny,” he tells us. But my brothers are ten and eleven-years-old, and poor James can’t keep up with them.

“Broder go down.” Victoria giggles and squirms on my hip.

“Yes, he did go down the hill, sweetie.” I kiss my baby angel on the brow, my lips lingering on her skin for a few extra moments. I’ve been so worried she’ll come down with another cold. Though she’s been a healthy child, that virus she caught last month was enough to scare even my big bad husband. In fact, the night her fever peaked was also the only night he’s had a bad dream in seven years.

But I remind myself for at least the hundredth time that kids fall down. Kids get sick. It’s part of life. The best I can do as a mother is love my children unconditionally. And I do love my family, more than I ever thought was possible.

I think back to the night it all began. The night of my twenty-first birthday. Andrés was my knight in shining armor after my friend’s car engine blew up, and he’s been my hero every day since. He saved me, not just from a bad home life, but from myself. Not only did I refuse to believe I was incapable of loving a family: I refused to love myself and let myself be loved the way I deserved.

“Me go with Daddy!” Victoria kicks her legs against my side.

“Oh, no, pumpkin,” I stroke her tanned cheek and look down into her vivid green eyes. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Pease, Mommy,” she begs, batting thick lashes.

Andrés comes up to us and peels Victoria from my grip. “Just one time, Mommy.”

“Andrés,” I cry. “She’s too little.”

Andrés flashes a reassuring smile and kisses me on the cheek. “We’ll only go half-way.” Then he leans down and purrs in my ear. “But I’m taking you all the way tonight, mija.”

A blush creeps into my cheeks, and damn my traitorous body for leaning into him, my senses craving the rich scent of his musk like a drug. I nip at his ear as he turns from me, our daughter pressed against his chest. James follows them up, and my heart goes with them. James hops on the back of Manny’s sled and Andrés settles our little girl between his legs, holding her tight as they soar down the hill. My heart doesn’t stop pounding in my ears until Andrés places our giggling girl back in my arms.

My mom trudges up to us in her pastel pink snowsuit, matching pink scarf, boots, and gloves. She looks like a vat of cotton candy, and I think she’s adorable.

“Here, I think you could use this.”

I take the steaming cup from her as Victoria launches herself into her grandma’s arms.

I clutch the cup tightly, savoring the taste of Bailey’s Irish Cream. I wonder who told my mom I needed alcohol. When Doc comes over to us with a sheepish grin, I have my answer. I usually only drink alcohol on special occasions, and I think stressing all day over the safety of my children is “special” enough. After I finish the whole cup, I think I’m finally relaxed enough to ride down a few times with my husband.