Page 81 of Out of Focus

“Mm-hmm.” I anchor myself to him with my hands around his wrists.

“Hey, will you sign my copies of your books?” He blushes. Actually bloody blushes. Again! And I nearly can’t take it. “I have all of them. Special editions, and everything.” His smile is so warm, as are his hands that have little calluses on them, just rough enough to tease my skin. I love the feel of them on me.

“Of course I will. That’s… It’s so…” Tears prick the backs of my eyes, and the words don’t come.

He leans down and kisses me softly, tenderly. “Thank you,” he whispers against my lips.

I don’t know what he’s thanking me for when I should be the one thanking him for the most perfect reaction. One completely opposite of the one Robert had, which was essentially full of condescension and dismissal. I hate that my brain always chooses to compare these two men. I get it. They’re complete opposites.

There’s more I want to confess, but fear stops me. I don’t want to completely erase this perfect moment where Rafael has just told me that he loves my brain, that he has all of my books. And selfishly, I want to keep this memory just as it is. Perfect and happy. Mine.

So, when he takes my hand and kisses it before buckling me back into my seat, I say nothing.

I promise myself I’ll tell him another time.

Soon.

41/

it’s okay, she knows i’m crazy about you.

charlie

After a slightly smaller feast than the last time we were here, Ana Maria starts getting things prepped for today’s recipe: farofa. She explained that it’s a staple in their household and Brazilian culture, but how she makes it has always been a mystery. Until today.

“All right, Char, this one is a side dish, but it’s got a lot going on, so I might be at the stove more than I’m here, okay?” Rafael is resting his forearms on the island countertop across from me, but I hardly notice his muscles or the apron he has on that says Hot stuff coming through (and I don’t mean the food).

“You just called me Char.” My eyebrows are suddenly very well acquainted with my hairline.

“I call you a lot of things, pretty girl.” He winks and steps off to the side, giving his grandmother room to stand next to him. Where the bloody hell does this charm come from? And how was I immune to it for so long? With his hands on his hips, he smiles widely. “Put me to work, Vózinha!”

For the next twenty minutes, they chop and prep. And now, Raf is standing with his back to me at the stove, working two pans at the same time.

Is it hot in here? Why is that making me feel warm and tingly?

It smells amazing, and I’ve got my work cut out for me with this one as they both hover over the stove, occasionally shouting ingredients or instructions at me, like “add the onions into the bacon grease” and “a mix of green and black olives.” I do my best to make it all make sense, and whenever there’s a lull as they wait for something to cook, I either just watch them joking with one another in that easy way they have, or I type out another recipe that was already in the notebook.

In the end, I find that I very much enjoy farofa—despite being skeptical of some of the ingredients going into it. It’s soft yet crunchy, savory, and incredibly flavorful.

I help with the clean-up this time, since I get to reap the benefits of their hard work, and as I’m wiping down the countertop, Ana Maria places her warm hand over mine, stopping my movements. “Thank you for what you’re doing here. I’m so glad he has you in his life. You know, Rafa truly is the best of us all, with the kindest heart. He’s never been anything other than ours in every way that matters, but I know that he sometimes still feels like he needs to prove his worth. As if he needs to work harder than anyone else to be a part of this family.” She squeezes my hand. “He doesn’t, of course. I hope you know that. I hope you’ll see that.”

“Oh, dona Ana, I know he doesn’t need to. The way you love him is written all over everything you do. It’s obvious, even to someone like me.” I stop, wondering how I can backpedal. “Someone coming in as an outsider, that is, that you mean the world to one another. He’s lucky to have you, yes, but you’re equally lucky to have him.” I don’t know if I’ve said too much, or maybe not enough, but she smiles brightly.

When her grip on my hand loosens, I expect her to walk away, but instead, she palms my cheek in the same way she does to Rafael when she greets him. “I knew you could see it too. How special he is. Now stop calling me dona. It’s Vó.” Her touch is gentler with me but no less full of affection. It makes my chest tighten with a longing for my own loving grandmother. The one I never got to have.

Just as she lets me go, Rafael walks back into the kitchen. “All right, the garbage is taken care of. Should we head outside for a bit before we go? I bet Charlie will love your garden, Vó.” Standing between us, he wraps us both up in his arms, laying a kiss on his grandmother’s head, then turning to do the same to me. Receiving this kind of affection sends tingles right down to my toes. I know he gives it away easily, freely, but with him, that doesn’t make it any less special. Not one bit.

As we step onto the back deck, the orange grove I could see from the kitchen comes fully into view, and it’s far larger than I thought. But it’s the backyard itself that takes my breath away. Just below us is a vast expanse of green grass. The size of a football field, at least. On one side, there’s a large sitting area with several chairs circling a fire pit. The small pond next to it is perfectly still. On the other side, there are several rows of raised garden beds with a large greenhouse next to them.

With her hand tucked into the crook of his arm, Rafael helps Vó as we walk down together into the greenhouse. Despite the chill in the air, it’s toasty warm in here. There are flowers everywhere. Each more beautiful than the last.

“This is gorgeous.” I run my fingers through some leaves, close my eyes, and smell the literal roses growing in here.

Warm fingers wrap around mine. “Careful of the thorns, gata,” Rafael whispers as he brings my hand to his lips. I twist quickly to find Vó is pruning a plant, blissfully unaware of her cheeky grandson’s actions. He chuckles, letting his lips linger over my fingers. “It’s okay, she knows I’m crazy about you. It’s impossible to hide anything from her.” She might know that, but do I? He’s never so bluntly said that before. Sure, he’s attracted to me, and he likes spending time with me, but that? It sounds awfully close to something real.

It’s a large greenhouse, so we step away a bit further, hidden behind some of the larger plants where we have more privacy, which is wonderful. I mean, no, it’s terrible because then Raf’s lips are on my neck, his whispered words making me shiver. “I used to come in here sometimes just so I could smell the roses. So I could feel closer to you.”

Every part of me wants to lean into him, to let those words wash over me, but I’m so terrified of what will happen if I leave LA. When I leave LA. When. That thought alone has me stepping away from him, moving on to look at other flowers. If he’s disappointed, he doesn’t show it. Not for the rest of the day.

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