Page 86 of The Odds of Happily Ever After
“It doesn’t mean it’s all bad.”
Her ability to stay hopeful astounded me. I could no longer attribute it to her being sheltered or spoiled or even young. I’d lost my optimism before I hit my twenties. Whether hers was a choice or simply engraved in her DNA, I hoped she’d never lose it. That sparkle in her eyes, the glow on her face—I couldn’t envision a world where Luna had neither.
She grimaced. “I’m still dreading telling my parents about the fashion thing, though. At least we’ll be in different continents, and I doubt Papa will come all the way here to pull me out of school.” Her shoulders squared, and she set her chin. “I’ll just have to keep my grades up so he won’t have a reason to complain too much.”
“I’m sure you can do it,” I said.
“Yeah?”
“Absolutely.” I absently ran my thumb across the base of her palm. How did her skin feel so soft? “And if you need any help, let me know.”
“As long as it’s not related to the classes you teach?” she asked with a light laugh.
The reminder brought me back to my senses. “Right.” I let go of her hand and grabbed my fork again, pretending I didn’t notice her smile falter.
I’d never hated my job more than I did now with her disappointment staring me in the face. I could try to be there for her, but my efforts wouldn’t count for much if I always kept them within specific constraints.
Wanting to salvage the mood, I nudged her foot under the table. I’d never done that childish move in my life. “Hey. Thank you for cooking. I was looking forward to this.”
“You cooked, too,” she said as she twirled pasta around her fork. “And now you know the recipe, so you can make it whenever you want.”
It wouldn’t be the same. Not without her there. “Have you always enjoyed cooking?” I asked.
She scrunched her nose in thought. “Actually, no. It was something I did because we all had to help out at home. Ate and Lonzo tried to get out of cooking duty, and I realized it was my chance to . . . I don’t know, bond with Mama and Lola on my own, I guess. We talked about the most random things, and they never made me feel stupid about asking so many questions. It was fun.” She chuckled softly and bit her lip.
“It became your quality time with them,” I said.
“Exactly. Then I learned to love cooking. Not so much the act itself but how food makes people happy. It brings us together, especially us Filipinos. Our parties are never complete without food.”
The more Luna spoke, the more she opened her world to me. I loved how she didn’t just talk for the sake of being heard. She talked to share a part of herself, like how she cooked as a way of caring for her loved ones. I wondered if that was her subconsciously negotiating her place within her family—her wanting to prove that she brought value.
“It’s the same for Brazilians,” I told her. “Food as a social experience. Dinners, especially.” So much so that Ma had gottenmad at my father whenever he missed dinners. To her, work was not an excuse to skip family time.
Luna tilted her head and looked at me intently. “Do you remember a lot about Rio?”
“No. Most of what I remember came from pictures and my parents’ stories.”
“You never went back?”
“Never, though my father keeps telling me to visit.” My last conversation with him returned to my mind, but I shoved it away. I wouldn’t let that ruin my time with Luna.
“Do you want to?”
The automatic denial died on my tongue. Did I? My logical side said I had no sentimental ties to my birth country. I had left Brazil too young to consider it home, and my relationship with my relatives was mostly comprised of the standard greetings and updates from my father.
Despite that, an undeniable part of me was intrigued about my heritage. I wondered if I’d feel a sense of homecoming when I went there and saw people who resembled me. If my tio and tia would feel more like family when I met them in my native land.
I realized that I’d taken longer than normal to respond to Luna, but she didn’t prod. Instead, she waited patiently for me to speak.
“Yes,” I said. “I want to go there one day.”
Her smile came in a flash. “I think that would be great, Gabe. Like a rediscovery. And I’m sure your dad would be so happy to have you there.”
For a moment, I allowed myself to simply take her in. The crinkled outer edges of her eyes as she smiled at me. The strands of her hair that had escaped her braid and fell across her forehead. The brown-red lips that stretched in a generous curve.
She was beautiful, Luna—not just in a physical sense, but in how she was so full of life and joy. I couldn’t believe I got to behere with her—that she gave me another chance after I screwed things up yet again.
“I never thanked you for my birthday breakfast.”
