Page 20 of The No Falling Rule
He pops a grape into his mouth, and the way his jaw works makes my legs press together on instinct.
When he raises his eyebrows, I snap out of my dirty thoughts. “Sorry, got distracted for a second.”
The smirk he flashes me is downright naughty. The man knowsexactlywhat he’s doing.
“An hour cleaning cow manure will give your guests something to think about next time they want to complain about a plumber charging too much,” I say.
Diego throws his head back and laughs. I grin like a lovesick puppy, my chest tightening with something warm and stupidly giddy. I made him laugh. The serious businessman is laughing atmyjoke.
“Okay, I don’t think anyone would pay to do that,” he says. “But maybe gardening, cooking, pottery lessons—stuff like that.”
“Something like self-care then,” I add, and he nods.
“I could get into that,” I say, already picturing spending a few days reconnecting with nature—and with myself. “I mean, maybe notmespecifically. My job’s already physical, and I’m surrounded by nature 24/7. But I can see the appeal for someone who lives in the city and wants to escape the noise and chaos for a while.”
He lifts his glass toward mine and clicks it softly. “That’s exactly what I’d like.”
I smile brightly at him and take a slow sip of my champagne.
“What about you?” he asks, completely focused on me.
I lick my bottom lip, debating how much I should share with a man I barely know. It doesn’t take long to realize I want to tell him everything.
“First, I’d like to move out of my sister’s place. Then I’d love to maybe explore going to college. I’ve always been fascinated by plants.”
I glance at Diego, half-expecting judgment for being twenty-five and still living with my sister—but there’s none. If anything, he just looks… interested.
“It’s a long story,” I continue, “but when my parents passed, I was two months from turning eighteen. Carly was twenty-three, so she became my legal guardian. She’s worked so hard to get where she is. She gave up so much for me—to give me stability, a home. But…”
The words catch in my throat, and guilt tightens my chest.
“But you’re ready to start your own story,” Diego finishes for me.
I nod.
“I don’t know her well, but I can’t see her getting in the way of your happiness,” he says with such confidence that I want to believe him. I do. But I’m scared of hurting her.
“I just wish I could tell her without upsetting her—or making her think I’m ungrateful.” I wipe a stray tear from my cheek with the heel of my hand.
Diego doesn’t sayI understandor offer some polished comfort. He just listens. And somehow, that’s exactly what I need.
“There’s one more thing I’d love more than anything,” I say, my gaze shifting from his handsome face to the endless glitter of the sea. “Ever since our parents passed, we haven’t done anything Christmas-y. I miss decorating the house, building the nativity, setting up the tree.”
A humorless chuckle escapes me. “Now that I say it out loud, it sounds silly. But I really do miss it—the lights, the smell of pozole and tamales, Mamá singing and dancing in the kitchen with Papá.”
The memory flickers so vividly it hurts.
“Now, December is like any other month. We work until we get time off, then we chill at home.. Once the holidays are over, it’s just… back to regular life again.”
I keep my eyes on the horizon. I’m afraid to see the look on Diego’s face. He’s a millionaire in his thirties. I’m sure he lives alone and doesn’t have time to decorate. God, he must think I sound naive.
“Bonita, look at me,” he says, his voice soft and tender.
I close my eyes for a second before willing myself to look up to him.
“I’m sorry you not only lost your parents,” he says quietly, “but also some of the most important traditions in your life.”
I know I’m allowed to feel what I feel, but hearing Diego not only validate them but also sympathize with me brings a rush of emotions I’d buried for a long time. Tears slip down freely, but I don’t hide. Not anymore.
