Page 90 of As the Rain Falls
“Hey Angie.” I raise a hand, feeling a bit awkward as I watch her wrestle with the keys.
“You took your sweet time,” she smiles, showing me a row of perfect white teeth. “Lunch is almost ready.”
“There was traffic.” I gesture to the truck, not knowing what else to say. “I grabbed your favorite soda.”
Her entire face softens. “Oh, great. Mom’s on a diet, and it’s driving me insane.”
I chuckle, “Again?”
“She’s trying to fit into some dress my dad got her that’s a whole size too small,” she answers and rolls her eyes, taking the soda from me.
I frown. “He doesn’t know what size she wears?”
Mr. and Mrs. Cardoso have been married since high school. I don’t think they’ve ever even dated other people.
“Oh, he does. She asked him to buy it for her as an incentive,” Angelina snorts. “Compliments are welcomed. Actually, no. Please, compliment her.”
I smirk, shoulders relaxing, “Don’t worry. I’ve got you covered.”
Angelina walks away, disappearing into the kitchen with the soda. Mrs. Cardoso appears, wearing a yellow apron with tiny pineapples, waving a wooden spoon loaded with rice and beans.
“Beckett!”
“Thanks for having me, Mrs. Cardoso. You look amazing, as usual.” I lean in for a quick side-hug, politely patting her back. She waves the spoon in my face. “Oh, am I supposed to…”
“Taste it,” she orders.
“Well, okay.”
I take the spoon, blowing gently before taking a bite. The beans practically melt on my tongue, followed by a taste offresh garlic, cumin, onions, and salt. All traditional seasoning for Brazilian food.
“This is really good!” I swallow, eyebrows lifting. “New recipe?”
“No, no. Same old one,” she rolls her eyes, her voice rising. “Hear that, Angelina? The boy likes it!”
“Beckett’s taste buds are broken,mãe,” Angelina calls back from the kitchen. “The beans are way too salty.”
“Tu é chata!”Mrs. Cardoso crosses her arms over her chest, flicking her gaze between her daughter and me. “You two set the table. I’m done working for the day. You hear me?Acabou!Done!”
Angelina sighs, “I’ll grab the forks. You get the plates.”
“Why do I get the plates?” I frown. “Why don’t I get the forks?”
“Because the plates are heavier, and I’m not doing all the hard work when you look like you’ve got a six pack under that shirt.”
She tosses her hair back dramatically. It’s longer now, reaching the middle of her back. Her hair color is back to its natural tone, a rich, dark chocolate. It’s a sharp contrast from the caramel color she had last summer, which made her look a lot older.
I shake my head, fighting a grin. “How are you?”
“I’m good.” She pulls open one of the drawers, grabbing utensils carefully. I reach for the plates on a higher shelf. “Fresh out of treatment, as you can see.”
“Right.” I nod slowly, watching her from the corner of my eye. “How’s that going for you?”
“I’m going back to school tomorrow.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Already?”
“I’ve got a lot of classes to catch up on,” she explains, voice even. “I was supposed to go in today, but Mr. Rivera wasn’t around to handle my return, sign off the papers, and all that.”
