Page 117 of The Crush
Ninety-Three
Isabel
“Anddone!”
I lean back in my office chair and smile, a profound sense of satisfaction settling over me as I watch the email go out. Another story filled and early enough that I will have the rest of the afternoon to prepare for all of the company that will be stopping by over the next few days.
Before getting up, however, I allow myself to have a few minutes to sit in the quiet of a house that is usually anything but, to let my eyes habitually travel over the wall of carefully framed and arranged newspaper clippings, many of them carrying my name in the byline while the exceptions feature my husband as the subject.
I had been so proud of him before but I’m even more so now. Of the man he is. The husband. The father.
The sound of tires crunching in the driveway out front makes me smile, and I push myself up out of my chair, my steps slow as I move out of my office and toward the wide open kitchen. Past more frames of family photos and faraway places, past three sunflower petals preserved and pressed into a faded page.
When we had first returned home from our travels, Daniel had worked to build this house with a single-minded focus only he could have managed. Promising that I would have my own nurserywhen it came time to bring our baby home, not to mention a place that felt utterly mine in the meantime.
Fortunately, he had some help keeping that promise.
Tadeo had been by his side nearly every step of the way, driving down the half-mile road that connected our house to his and helping his son with everything from electrical to shingles. A pleased smile always on his face as he watched Daniel survey the progress they’d made for the day.
Along with the company they finally got around to bringing over, my brothers had helped as well. Eli turning up whenever he had a few hours free, Aarón pulling up whenever there was something that required heavy lifting, and Gabe always showing up to assist with whatever it was that needed doing. My mamá, of course, was also a frequent self-appointed site foreman, making sure no one overdid it in the Texas heat, including me, who happily hauled my increasingly pregnant self over from Tadeo’s. Not about to miss the chance to watch Daniel build usa house. If only the teenage pages of my diary could have seen me then…and now.
“Mamá!”
My eldest announces her presence with a shout and the sound of rapid footsteps on the porch, the bang of the screen, and the dramatic swing in of the front door as she bursts into the front hall and makes a beeline in my direction.
“Mi corazón,” I greet her enthusiastically as I bend down to receive my hug. “Did you have a good day?”
“Yes!” she says, talking a mile a minute. “I made empanadas and Isaac tried to eat them all but I stopped him and Papí says we can’t go trick-or-treating until later but that—that Tío Gabe will be here soon to carve pumpkins with me and…”She takes a deep breath before immediately picking up where she left off. “And that tomorrow we will go to see Abuelita María and I can show her my costume and, and, and Papí said I can eat all my candy.”
“María,” Daniel says as he steps through the front door with our son in one hand and a stack of newspapers in the other. “I did not say you could eat all your candy. You’re going to get me in trouble.”
She grins, not seeming the least bit bothered when she briefly gets sandwiched between her two parents as Daniel leans in to give me a kiss and to pass me Isaac. The happy toddler looking more and more like his father every day.
“Reinforcements not here yet?” Daniel asks, looking around briefly to be sure his house hasn’t been invaded while I give Isaac a loud kiss and a hug before setting him down. “I didn’t see Pop’s truck when I drove by so I’m guessing he must be out with Eli. Did he say earlier when he’d get here? The kids want him to come trick-or-treating with us.”
I nod, trying not to laugh as our daughter conspiratorially grabs her younger brother by the hand and starts running with him toward their bedrooms on the other side of the house. No doubt meaning to make a grab for their costumes, regardless that they aren’t going trick-or-treating for at least another couple hours or so.
“Yes, Tadeo stopped by a few times today,” I say, crossing my arms and staring him down. “He was by at lunch. And this morning. And he should be back again any minute now if he’s sticking to the same schedule as last week. I know what you’re doing, Daniel Ríos.”
His barely smothered grin keeps him from looking the least bit convincing. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Mm-hmm,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him as he starts to back me into the kitchen with an increasingly apparent smile on his face. “This isn’t my first rodeo, you know. You always get like this.”
“Like what?” he asks as my butt bumps into the kitchen counter. He sets the newspapers on the counter before his hands move to either side of me, the extent of the distance he has to lean in nearly comical, but somehow I manage to keep a straight face.
“I know you’re sending him over to check on me,” I tell him, not actually the least bit annoyed but wanting to make sure he doesn’t think he’s getting anything past me. “Make sure I haven’t— ”
“Gone into labor while I’m not here?” His hands switch from bracing against the counter to framing my rounded belly, waiting patiently for a kick as he gets that same wistful, disbelieving expression on his face that he always does.
I smile, cupping his face as I lift his eyes to mine. “Danny, I promise that if I go into labor, I do have your office number. Besides, I’m still not due for another week and both your babies came late before. You’re going to wear Tadeo out making him come over here every five minutes.”
He chuckles, turning his head to kiss my palm. “As if you don’t already know that it is his idea. He frets over you almost as much as I do.” Daniel’s eyes find mine, a trace of transparent anxiety in them. “Almost.”
“We’re okay,” I tell him softly, moving his hand to the spot where I can feel the baby moving. “See?”
He nods, crouching down to murmur things I can’t quite hear against that same spot, although I gather enough from the affectionate tone. To seal it, he presses a kiss there, too, before standing back up and fixing me with a look that I know is meant to encourageno argument before he starts guiding me toward one of the kitchen chairs.
“I tell you what, bonita,” he says, keeping a hand on my lower back. “I’ll see what I can do about the house calls if you have a seat and put your feet up.”
