Page 95 of Where She Belongs
“And miss this?” Claudia Romero-Hawthorne moves with the same confident energy she’s had since we were kids, though her East Coast life has polished some of her New Mexican edges. But not too much; she still craves all the Hatch green chile I make sure to ship to her. “Please. I had to see it for myself.”
She hugs me tight, then turns to Andrea. “Finally! Do you know how many years I’ve had to listen to him talk about you? ‘Andie this’ and ‘Andie that’ every time he called?”
“Claudia,” I warn, but she ignores me.
“Even when he was dating other people,” she continues, making herself at home at our patio table, “it was always Andrea this and Andrea that. Trevor nearly went crazy listening to him during his bachelor party weekend.”
Trevor, still imposing despite being retired from the SEALs, gives me a knowing look. “Two hours straight about her lumpia recipe. While we were supposed to be deep sea fishing.”
Andrea turns to me, eyebrows raised. “Really?”
“I was drunk,” I protest weakly. “And hungry.”
“He wasn’t drunk,” Trevor stage-whispers. “Just lovesick.”
Claudia reaches for the lemonade, making herself at home like she always has. Growing up, she was more sister than cousin, especially after her father’s death when she was ten brought her and her mother to live with us. “Remember when he drove three hours in that snowstorm just to deliver Tristy’s Christmas present?”
“The soccer jersey,” Andrea says, smiling.
“He said it was because he promised,” Claudia continues, accepting a plate of lumpia from my mother. “But we all knew.”
“Knew what?” the twins ask in unison.
Claudia grins. “That Tio Gabe was in love with Dr. Martin way back then. He just didn’t know it yet.”
“I knew,” I admit quietly, pulling Andrea closer. “I just wasn’t ready to admit it.”
“Well, thank god that’s over,” Claudia declares. “Now, when are you two giving me some nieces and nephews for Trevor to teach survival skills to?”
“You know,” I say, catching Andrea’s eye with a soft smile, “some things are worth waiting for. Like finding the right person to build a family with.”
The meaning behind my words isn’t lost on Claudia. Her expression softens as she looks between us, reading volumes in how Andrea’s hand has drifted to rest on her stomach.
“Oh my god,” she whispers, then catches herself before she can announce anything to the whole gathering. Instead, she squeezes Trevor’s hand, sharing a look with her husband that speaks of their own dreams of starting a family.
“Besides,” I add, lightening the moment, “shouldn’t you and Trevor be making that announcement first?”
I spot my father hovering near the edge of the gathering, trying to make himself useful by helping my mother with the food. He’s been different since our fight—more careful, more thoughtful in his interactions with Andrea. Today he’s even wearing the guayabera shirt she gave him for his birthday, a peace offering that surprised us both.
He catches my eye and raises his glass slightly—the sparkling water he’s switched to since his doctor’s warning about diabetes. Another change. Another attempt at being better.
When Andrea moves to help my mother with the salad, I watch him deliberately make space for her, offering her the serving spoons with a gentle “Here, mijita.” The word sounds different when he says it now—less patronizing, more genuine.
“You’ve always been brave, Gabriel Alejandro Vasquez,” she says. “Even if it meant dating half of Taos and Albuquerque combined just to prove to yourself that what you felt for me wasn’t real.”
I tighten my arms around her. “Didn’t work very well, did it?”
“No,” she laughs softly. “Though I have to admit, watching you with all those women... it wasn’t easy, even when I thought I was happily married.”
“Yeah?” I can’t help the hint of satisfaction in my voice.
She turns in my arms. “Don’t get cocky, Dr. Vasquez. I seem to remember a certain someone getting very grumpy whenever Simon bragged about my accomplishments at medical conferences.”
“He never deserved to take credit for your success.” The old protectiveness rises in my chest. “You built that clinic on your own.”
“And now we’re building something together.” Her hands come up to frame my face. “Something real.”
“Something real,” I agree, leaning down to kiss her. “Though I still say my lumpia is getting better.”
