Page 10 of The Lion in the Library

She nodded, understanding in her eyes. “I know something about complicated futures.”

After dinner, we moved to the living room where Estrella produced a worn deck of cards. “La Lotería?” she suggested.

I chuckled and nodded. “I haven’t played it since I was Luz’s age.”

The game was lively, with much laughter and good-natured accusations of cheating, particularly when Estrella called “¡Lotería!” to win four times in a row.

In these unguarded moments, was where I was losing my heart to her. The way her eyes crinkled when she laughed, the tender way she corrected Pedro when he forgot to say “¡Lotería!” the competitive gleam in her eye when she was winning.

This was a different Estrella from the composed woman I had met at the library or the cautious one who had greeted me at her door. This was Estrella the mother, Estrella at home, Estrella at her most authentic.

I was captivated.

As the evening wore on, the children began to show signs of tiredness. Pedro climbed into my lap during the final round, his small body warm and trusting against mine. Luz’s eyelids drooped, though she stubbornly insisted she wasn’t sleepy.

“Time for bed, mis amores,” Estrella announced, gathering the cards. “Say goodnight to Leo.”

“But Mami,” Luz protested, “he didn’t finish telling us about the time he scored the winning goal in the World Cup.”

“Which you can hear another time,” Estrella said firmly. “Bed now.”

“Will you come back?” Pedro asked, his small hand gripping my shirt as Estrella lifted him from my lap.

I glanced at Estrella, not wanting to make promises I couldn’t keep. “If your mother says it’s okay,” I answered carefully.

“Please, Mami?” Luz pleaded. “He can come for dinner again and tell us more football stories.”

Estrella’s expression was a complex mix of emotions. I saw caution, tenderness, and something else I couldn’t quite identify. “We’ll see,” she said, the universal parent’s non-answer. “Now, bedtime. Give Leo a proper goodnight.”

To my surprise, both children hugged me before allowing their mother to usher them toward their bedroom. Pedro’s small arms around my neck and Luz’s whispered “Goodnight, Leo” left me with an unexpected lump in my throat.

While Estrella put the children to bed, I tidied up the pizza boxes and washed the few dishes in the sink. It felt natural, this simple domesticity, as if I had been doing it for years rather than hours.

When Estrella returned, she seemed surprised to find the kitchen clean. “You didn’t have to do that,” she said, leaning against the doorframe.

“I wanted to,” I replied, drying my hands on a kitchen towel. “It’s the least I could do after inviting myself over and eating your food.”

“The children ordered the pizza,” she reminded me with a smile. “And you paid.” Her expression grew more serious. “They like you.”

“I like them too,” I said honestly. “They’re amazing kids, Stella. You’ve done a wonderful job with them.”

She looked away, but not before I caught the shimmer of tears in her eyes. “It hasn’t been easy,” she said softly. “Being both mother and father, making all the decisions, bearing all the responsibility... sometimes I wonder if I’m doing the right thing, bringing them to a new country, starting over again.”

I moved closer, instinctively wanting to comfort her. “From what I can see, they’re happy, well-adjusted, and clearly adore their mother. I’d say you’re doing something right.”

She met my gaze, vulnerability plain in her face. “Thank you for saying that. It... means a lot.”

We stood there in her small kitchen, the distance between us charged with unspoken feelings. I wanted to kiss her—had been wanting to since our coffee after the conversation club—but I also didn’t want to rush her, to be just another man who took without considering the complexities of her life.

“I should go,” I said reluctantly. “It’s getting late, and you probably have an early day tomorrow.”

She nodded, though I thought I detected disappointment in her eyes. “Yes, I have a 6 AM call time. Hollywood,” she added with a wry smile, “is not kind to mothers who need to get their children to school.”

I gathered my jacket and backpack, and she walked me to the door. “Thank you for a lovely evening,” I said. “I haven’t had that much fun in... well, longer than I can remember.”

“Even with my dramatic La Lotería playing?” she teased.

“Especially with your dramatic La Lotería playing,” I laughed. “I imagine you do everything with that same passion.”