Page 70 of Love and Other Goals

“My parents loved having him with us, and we loved the polvorosas you sent,” I gush to her. “In my suitcase, I have a container of homemade peanut brittle my mom made for you.”

Rosa smiles widely and gestures toward the front door. “Come in, come in! Let’s get out of the cold!” I look back at Mateo in time to see a sheen of moisture in his eyes. Luis steps forward to wrap me up in a hug, then announces he’ll carry in my suitcase from Isabel’s car. Mateo threads his fingers through mine and leads me up the porch steps into the house.

“It’s all making a lot more sense now why my mom was so worried about cleaning the house yesterday,” he says with a smirk. “I still can’t believe you’re here. I’m floored that my dad thought this up and pulled off the surprise.”

“Hey, give some credit where credit is due!” Isabel exclaims with a whine as she comes in behind us. She pops her fists on either hip and says, “Tu novia wouldn’t be standing here if I didn’t drive to the airport.”

Mateo gives Isabel a teasing noogie on the head, earning an exasperated swat from her, but then he wraps an arm around her in a hug and gives her a brotherly peck on the top of her head. “A million thanks to you, hermana. I owe you big time.”

Rosa leads me to Isabel’s old room to put my suitcase away and take a few minutes to freshen up after traveling. I come out of the bathroom, smiling as I listen to the spirited Spanish conversation coming from the kitchen. I pause in the hallway, hiding to listen to Mateo’s voice as he converses with his family, breath catching every time I hear my name. I always love the sound of his voice saying my name, but hearing it in the midst of this conversation with his family makes my heart race.

I make my way into the kitchen, where Isabel is perched on top of the counter with Mateo leaning against it next to her. Luis has his arm around Rosa leaning against the cabinets opposite of them. “Lana! We were just talking about you,” Isabel declares exuberantly.

Mateo’s face lights up at me, and he raises his arm to welcome me to tuck myself into his side. I lean into him as I laugh. “I’m at a serious disadvantage here being the only one who isn’t bilingual.”

“Don’t worry, everyone’s just discussing how much we love you,” Isabel assures me, with a wink and mischievous smile in Mateo’s direction. Luis stifles a laugh.

Mateo clears his throat and says, “We were talking about the plan for the rest of the day. Would you be okay coming with us to the restaurant for the evening?”

I dance up on my toes and let go of Mateo to clap my hands. “Yes! I’ve wanted to see the restaurant ever since Mateo told me about it!” I turn to Rosa. “He raves about your cooking, and I’ve been dying to try it.”

Rosa waves me off, but the pleased look on her face shows she appreciates the praise. “Oh, it’s nothing too special,” she says. “You Americans are more accustomed to Mexican food, so you’ll see a lot of familiar things on the menu. But I add my Guatemalan flair wherever I can.”

“Mamá, you say that as though your own grandfather wasn’t Mexican,” Isabel teases. Rosa simply shrugs, and I stifle a laugh.

After standing around chatting a bit more, we make our way to the restaurant. Isabel takes her car so she can drive straight home after, and we take Mateo’s truck so we can leave early if I get tired. I appreciate the few minutes alone with Mateo as we make the short drive to “downtown” Hart. There’s a small amphitheater overlooking Hart Lake, which Mateo says is used for musical performances throughout the summer. There’s a big festival and fireworks show for Fourth of July. Mateo points out other noteworthy places from his upbringing as we drive, and I’m loving getting this deeper glimpse into his life.

We pull up to a brick building on the corner with big windows brightened by multi-color Christmas lights. The sign above the door reads La Mesa de Familia. “The Family Table,” I read aloud, and Mateo gives me a nod of approval.

Heading inside, I look around and take it all in. Vibrant colors, tantalizing smells, sounds of animated conversations and laughter fill the air. The host stand at the front is painted with a Guatemalan flag, and upbeat Spanish music plays over the speakers.

I grin up at Mateo. “This place is amazing.”

He smiles back at me. “La Mesa is like the sixth member of our family. Miguel, Isabel, and I all grew up here. We worked every job from waiting tables to washing dishes, cooking to unloading deliveries. This place helped raise us.”

Mateo quickly shows me around. Luis and Rosa are already back in the kitchen cooking, and Isabel is waiting tables. Mateo tells me we’re on host duty, greeting guests, showing them to their tables, and taking payments at the cash register.

Well, he’s on duty. I mostly just sit on a stool next to him, admiring how attractive he looks here in his element, chatting with people who have known him his whole life. When it starts to slow down later in the evening, I ask Mateo if it would be okay for me to go watch his mom cook. “She would definitely love to show off for you,” he responds with a grin.

I head back to the kitchen, announcing my presence to Rosa. I watch her gracefully move through the kitchen, stirring, frying, and spooning sauces over food on plates to send out to hungry guests. She truly is impressive.

Orders slow to a trickle as the hour grows later, and Rosa starts heaping a little of everything onto a plate for me to taste. Luis takes over preparing the handful of orders that come through as Rosa stands with me, explaining each dish as I take a bite, her smile widening as I moan in pleasure with each one. “Rosa, this is all so delicious. I can’t imagine getting to eat like this every day!”

“Now you see why I was out running for soccer all the time—I had to work off all the calories my mom fed me,” Mateo’s voice says behind me. I turn to see him sauntering into the kitchen. “But make sure you save some room for dessert, because Mamá makes the best mole de platano you’ll ever eat.”

By the time I finish my plate of samples, I’m completely stuffed, but I find room in a second stomach when Rosa presents me with a dish of fried plantains covered in mole sauce, sprinkled with cinnamon and sesame seeds. The hint of heat from the chili and the spiciness of the cinnamon balance out the sweetness of the chocolate.

It’s to die for. “I want to eat this every day for the rest of my life,” I tell Rosa and Mateo as I lick my spoon. Rosa smiles approvingly before moving to clean up the food prep area.

“In the ultimate dessert tournament, tiramisu and mole de platano are the top two finalists—which will be the winner?” Mateo asks me with a raised eyebrow.

“Ugh, don’t make me answer that!”

We stay to help clean up the kitchen and wipe down the tables. Luis and Rosa have a process to close the restaurant until Tuesday, so they send Mateo and me home after I stifle my third yawn. After an early morning getting to the airport and with a belly full of amazing food, I’m ready to doze off.

We walk in the front door, and I lazily stretch my arms above my head as I yawn yet again. Mateo slips his arms around me from behind, pulling my back against his chest and burying his face into my neck. He inhales deeply, then says quietly, “You should go ahead and get some sleep. There’s no telling exactly what time my parents will get back home.”

Another yawn breaks through at that exact moment, so I nod my head in agreement. “What’s the plan tomorrow?”

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