Page 89 of Never the Bride
I contemplate opening the freezer and funneling the cold air toward me just to get some platonic perspective knocked into me.
“Mamá, this is a huge invasion of privacy.” Camila tries to scold her with a glare, but Rosa pats my cheek, ignoring her completely.
“Don’t worry. I approve of this man.”
I grin back as I slide a pancake onto the plate meant for Camila. Rosa winks at me then passes the food off to her daughter.
“I can’t believe you two are cooking together.” She covers her face with her hands as if she can magically make her mother in an apron in my kitchen go away. “This is weird.”
“My pancakes aren’t the Waffle House,” I say, “but I still think they’re pretty good.”
“What time did you get up this morning?” Camila looks at me.
“Eh, not too early.” I omit the part where I couldn’t get back to sleep after she climbed through my window—way too many thoughts swimming inside my head after that. I could go to Hell for those thoughts.
“I was just telling Hess how surprised I am that you slept in,” Rosa adds. “You’re usually up with the sunrise, working—even on a Saturday.”
“Yeah, well. Jobs pay the bills, remember?”
I hear the biting tone behind Camila’s words, and I know enough about her to see how supporting her mom and sister has weighed her down for so many years.
“I invited Hess to the mercado with me later. I need someone strong to carry the heavy bags.”
“Mamá.”
Rosa continues, “And to fix my leaky faucet. He’s a handyman too. Did you know that?”
“Mom!” Camila’s jaw drops with embarrassment as she looks at me. “You do not have to do any of that.”
“It’s okay. I don’t have anything going on today.”
Camila walks to the coffee pot, and I jump into action. “Let me get that for you.”
“I can do it.”
“I know youcan,but you’re not going to.” I grab her by the shoulders, my fingers grazing over the exposed, bare skin, but her mom is here, so I’m not even thinking about the shoulder.
I couldn’t care less.
I walk Camila to the island, sitting her back down on her barstool. Grabbing a mug, I pour her some fresh coffee with a splash of vanilla cream flavoring.
Her eyes narrow as she takes the cup from me, our fingers brushing together in the exchange. “How did you know my order?”
“I’ve been paying attention.”
“Hurry and eat so you can come with us.” Rosa waves her hand in front of her daughter.
“I can’t. I need to take my car to get the oil changed.”
“I already did it,” I say carefully in case my independent wife doesn’t like it. “I noticed the light was on the other day when I moved your car so I could get the horse trailer by. I grabbed your car keys earlier this morning and took care of it for you.”
“You changed my oil?”
“Uh…yeah.” My eyes dart back to the pan I’m washing. “And I filled it up with gas too.”
“Why did you do all that?”
I glance at her mom then back to Camila. “I told you I’d show you what it’s like to have someone take care of you for a change.”
