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“Mi amor,” he says. “It’s okay.”
“I have just one more question for you, if you don’t mind me posing it,” I say.
He turns off the stove and puts his spatula down. “Ask me anything.” He faces me, his eyes serious, his chest exposed.
“Two days ago, you asked me a question, and I want to pose the same one to you. What do you want for Christmas more than anything else?”
He doesn’t even deliberate. It takes him no time to answer. “You,” he replies.
“But you’re smart and handsome and hardworking. Youcould have any other woman in the world. Are you sure that I’m enough?”
“What?You’re more than enough. You’ve always been more than you ever give yourself credit for. You’re everything.”
I often have trouble reading the nuances of a face. And while most people are a mystery to me, Juan is an open book. Now, as I gaze at him, I see nothing in his face but love.
“Molly,” he says, “whatever questions you still have for me, I’ll answer them all. And just know, I have a question for you, too, a very important one. But you’ve guessed what I want to ask, haven’t you?”
“Have I?” I reply.
His brow furrows and his head tilts to one side. “You don’t know?”
“I’m afraid not,” I say. “But go ahead. Ask your question.”
“I will,” he says. “But not now.”
“If not now, when?” I ask.
“Very soon.”
Chapter 11
The suspension of disbelief.Dictionary definition: to believe something is true even though it seems impossible.
That is the peace I have come to this morning, at least for the time being. I will spend the day looking for proof that Juan loves me instead of proof that he does not. Once the Christmas party is behind us, Juan and I will sit calmly and talk everything through. But now, we must focus on the big day ahead.
On our way to work, Juan is jumpier than I’ve ever seen him. He startles every time a bird flies by or a car honks its horn.
“If you’re worried about the holiday staff party,” I say, “you don’t need to be. It’s going to go fine.”
“I’m hoping for the best,” he replies. “Accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative, right?”
“Correct,” I reply.
We arrive at the hotel, where my gran-dad is standing at hispodium on the red-carpeted stairs. He ambles down the second he spots us.
“The beautiful couple has arrived,” he says as he throws an arm around each of us, pulling us into his Father Christmas greatcoat.
“I’ve got to get to work right away,” Juan says. “Mr. Preston, you catch up with Molly, okay? Have a good, long chat, you understand?” he says as he takes the stairs two by two and disappears through the revolving front doors.
“Don’t ask me what that was all about,” I say the moment Juan’s gone. “He’s been acting strange lately. And as for a good, long chat, I hardly have the time. Nor do you by the look of things.”
Hordes of guests are leaving the hotel while new ones arrive in taxis and airport limousines.
“Oh, my dear girl,” my gran-dad says. “None of that matters. Today is a very special day.”
“Don’t tell me you’re in a tizzy over this staff Christmas party, too. Juan is beside himself.”
Before I even know what’s happening, my gran-dad wraps me in a hug so tight I fear I may burst at the seams. When he releases me, I see his eyes are wet. He pulls out his hankie to wipe tears away.
