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I lean into Z, and murmur, “I totally expected her to start cussing you out in her native language.”
He smiles down at me warmly. “Nah, she thinks it’s rude to speak Spanish in front of people who won’t understand what she’s saying. Plus, she’s just showing off in front of you, so she wants to be perfectly clear.”
This time, it’s a magenta potholder that hits Z upside his head, and I can’t help but laugh loudly.
“I think I love your mom,” I say, as every ounce of nervousness leaves my system.
That evening, I walk into the kitchen after lying down in Z’s old bedroom for a nap. One minute, I was perfectly fine, hanging out with him and his parents in their living room. The next, it felt like someone had covered my nose with a chloroform rag and if I didn’t go lie down that instant, I would pass out right then and there on the couch. Which made no sense, since we’d slept in this morning.
“Feeling better, sweetheart?” Louisa asks when she spots me.
“A little. Groggy, but I should be fine if you happen to have some coffee,” I tell her, a hopeful look on my face.
“Of course. Right there in the corner is my coffee bar. Help yourself to whatever you like.” She points, and that’s when I notice the cutest little setup. She has a Keurig with a spinning wrack of all sorts of flavored K-cups sitting on a black iron buffet. On the wall are paintings of different mugs of hot drinks, and a sign that says I like my sugar and cream with a hint of coffee.
I choose one of the donut shop coffees, and see there’s a black mini fridge built into the buffet, and when I open the small door, I giggle at all the different flavors of creamers. “You’re really prepared for anything, aren’t you, Mama Louisa?”
“Never know which coffee I’m going to be in the mood for, so I keep everything stocked,” she tells me with a wide smile, probably at my use of the name she’d ordered me to call her when I referred to her as Mrs. Del Castillo earlier.
After I’m finished stirring in a not-so-healthy amount of peppermint mocha creamer, I sit at the island and sip from the mug for a minute before finally asking, “Where is Z? And do you need any help fixing dinner? It all smells amazing.”
“I sent him and his dad on a mission to get flour tortillas to go with dinner tonight. I only have corn ones, and he informed me that you don’t like them.”
“Oh, gosh. Y’all didn’t have to make a fuss about that. I would’ve been fine with corn tortillas. It’s just a texture thing, no big deal,” I say, my face heating. The last thing I want is for her to think I’m some ungrateful, picky asshole.
“No fuss at all, honey. Don’t you worry about it. I personally thought it was sweet that he knew such a minor detail about your food preferences.” She smiled, stirring something in a silver pot on the stove.
“It is really sweet. He learned that tidbit a short while ago, when we had taco night at my best friend July’s house. I can’t believe he’d remember such a random thing,” I tell her, taking a sip of my coffee and moaning quietly at how it zings through my veins, waking me more with every swallow.
She chuckles, shaking her head and making her long, dark hair sway against her back. “My boy will surprise you. He’s always been a good listener, and he gives the best gifts. You’ll mention you’d like something in passing, and next holiday or birthday, there it is!”
“That seems like a rare quality in a man. You did good with him. He’s the most thoughtful, caring, and protective man I’ve ever met.”
Her eyes go soft as she turns to look at me, leaning on the counter next to the stove. “He actually gets it from his father, so it’s a learned behavior, not nature. Mateo is the same way. And hopefully, your children will pick it up from Eleazar, especially if it’s a boy. I’d much rather that trait be passed down through the generations than anything else. Things like looks and… height—” She winks. “—do not matter as much as how they treat you. But we shall see, yes?”
My cheeks warm at the idea of having babies with Z. I can already tell he’d be an amazing father, what with the way he’s so protective and how he dotes on me. But I say, “We’ve still got a while before we even start thinking about babies. We only began dating a month or so ago.”
Amusement fills her eyes and she cocks her head. “Oh, honey. I think God may have other plans for you and my boy.”
