Page 89 of Promise to Break

Maricela

"Could you pass me the oregano, mi hija?" Marlina asks. Her face is bright as always as she hums to herself. She always hums or sings to herself in the kitchen. When Raven asked her why she sings to the food, she says, "Music and food are love. When you bring them together, magic happens." Now she's all into her magic casting, making her famous tomato focaccia as an addition to all we already made.

"This one is for us," she says. "We need to eat, too." She tears the Italian bread and brings it to my mouth since my hands are full of the cream I'm making. I took the mission of making the pastry for this evening seriously.

"Can I have some too?" Raven asks. "I chopped the onions."

"But of course, carino mio."

Raven likes to come here, and people like her. Even Franco seems to have a soft spot for her, one that he doesn't have for anyone else, not even for his two sons and his wife.

"Your food is heavenly. Pedro and Julian are lucky."

"You bet I am, Sunny. Mi mama is the best." Julian enters the kitchen door, all smiles. He's wearing the chauffeur uniform today, which means he helped his dad.

Marlina laughs. "What are you doing here? Go help your father." She makes a show of playing with the rolling pin in her hands as if threatening to whack him with it.

Pedro chuckles. "Leave the boy alone. I'm all done for the day, mi amor." He's the one who drove Serena and me to the place that changed our lives, and he, just like Julian and Marlina, became like the family I never knew I needed. "He's here to steal food," Pedro adds.

She snorts a laugh. "It's all those muscles he has now. He eats too much."

"Mama, you're the first Latina woman to say someone eats too much," Julian mocks with shock on his face and steals one of the pink baby cookies I made.

"You do eat too much. Now leave. We're busy." She touches his face with affection, one that I learned to appreciate.

Pedro scoops Marlina into his arms and starts dancing with her, even though there's no music to accompany them. Julian does the same to Raven while I watch for a few moments before going back to painting the cookies with pink and white cream.

Isabella enters the room with all of her bright elegance and smiles like the sun as she sees Raven and Julian dancing. If it was Franco, they would have stopped immediately. But since he isn't on the premises, we do what we want.

I never understood how two women who aren't related could look so similar. Yes, Raven's hair is as blonde as the sun, whereas Isabella's is as black as charcoal. Still, all the other facial features are there. The high cheekbones, the huge blue eyes, the tender smile. Even their body types are similar. If I didn't know any better, I would have pegged Raven to be Isabella's daughter.

"Marlina, is the meat ready?" Isabella asks.

"It is, senora. Everything is ready."

"And the bake goods?"

"Almost there," I announce. "The red velvet cake is ready, and the decorated cake, too." I point to the four-tiered cake I made with a teddy bear on it. My pastry teacher could be an asshole all he wanted, but he taught me a lot.

"Maricela, those are incredible. You are so talented, child." I smile without removing my hands from the cookies, not looking at Isabella. I made macaroons, and those things need more attention than the baby we are about to celebrate.

Raven puts an arm around my shoulder, making me stop my work. "I know, Aunty. Isn't she the best?"

"She is. And Rav? How are you doing? Did the exams go well? You haven't shown me any of your paintings for a while now."

"I did paint some, but nothing to brag about."

"What are you talking about? "Julian starts but stops at that. I know the look Raven gave him. She's very self-conscious about her work, and no matter how much everyone speaks about her talent, she likes to keep it on the down low. The only ones allowed into her sanctuary where she creates are Julian, me, and, occasionally, Killian.

"You don't have to show me. I know art is very private." I detect sadness in Isabella's voice, as if all Raven does matters to her deeply.

"Done," I announce after the last of three hundred and forty cookies. The house is going to be packed with people today, and while not all guests are going to get a piece of every single thing I made, I wanted them to leave with something sweet, so I made at least one macaron cookie for each of the expected attendees.

"Those are amazing," Julian exclaims as he reaches for another. I slap his hand immediately.

"You had one already, and those are not for you."

"Fine," he grumbles.

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