Page 150 of Love Arranged
Butterflies explode in my stomach because, wow. Okay. We’re really doing this.
After all the time we’ve spent fighting against the inevitable, it feels like everything is finally clicking into place for us, and I couldn’t be happier.
“Yes. That’s me. His girlfriend.”
His eyes seem to sparkle.
We both turn toward the headstones. I stay quiet while he tells his parents about our weekend and about how much money he raised for Healing Hearts.
“Over a quarter of a million dollars. Can you believe it?” he says.
I smile at the wonder in his voice. It makes him sound younger and much less burdened from his chronic sadness.
He shakes his head in disbelief. “I still can’t believe that Julian of all people dropped fifty thousand.”
“Do they know about your history?” I tease.
“Yes, and they’re very much Team Lorenzo. You, though? I’m not too sure.”
I fake a gasp of outrage. “Are youtryingto ruin my first impression?”
“Oh. They’ve heard plenty about you already, so no need to worry about that.”
Something in my stomach flutters at Lorenzo talking about me to hisparents.
If the man isn’t in love with me yet, he is already halfway there, if that genuine smile on his face is anything to go by.
And I look forward to the day when he finally realizes it himself.
I’m not sure why I ask Lorenzo if he is okay with stopping by my dad’s grave on our way out, but I do.
I mean, I knowwhyI asked. The visit to the Vittoris’ graves gave me courage, but it quickly wore off once we started walking toward my father’s resting place.
My heart beats harder, blood pumping in my ears like my body can’t tell the difference between visiting a grave and fighting for my life.
At this moment, it feels a bit like both.
Lorenzo must sense the change in me, and he wraps his hand around mine, keeping me grounded. “We could come back another day.”
I appreciate his offer—I really do, but I shake my head. It feels wrong to visit the cemetery without paying my dad a visit, even if it is for only a minute.
If Lorenzo can manage this every Friday, I can make it through sixty seconds.
Iwantto.
I’m not sure what I was expecting when we arrive at my dad’s grave, but a meticulously kept area and a floral arrangement of freshly cut yellow roses wasn’t it.
My mom must visit more often than I thought, and guilt needles a hole through my chest.
Everyone grieves differently, I remind myself.
Lorenzo lets go of my hand and softly touches my cheek, cradling it with the palm of his hand. “Do you want me to give you a moment?”
“No.” I dig my heels into the ground. “Don’t go.”
He dips his head and tucks me into his side instead, lending me some of his strength without saying a single word.
“Hola, Papi,”I start, keeping my eyesdrilled to the tombstone because I don’t trust myself not to cry if I look over at Lorenzo. “This is Lorenzo.”
