Page 62 of Unsure in Love

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CASS

Dinner wasn’t over before I decided that I loved Aunt Lucia. She captivated me with her hilariously wacky charm. Damian was right when he said she was eccentric, but she was also a lovable woman.

We jumped into the topic of her job. Lucia was pleasantly surprised to discover I was a fellow artist, and we spent some time talking about our craft. Now two people were in on the secret that I wasn’t solely a tattoo artist.

“I’d love to see some of your work,” I told Lucia.

She beamed. “Of course. You must stop by before you leave Brooklyn.” She turned to Damian. “Make sure I get another visit from Cassandra. She’s such a darling.”

Heat seared my cheeks. It was strange being called “a darling.” I was usually referred to as “sarcastic” or “flippant.”

Damian noticed my discomfort—of course, he did. The man was ever watchful… not that I minded having his attention at all times. He smirked and I narrowed my eyes. Later, I’d remind him how he blushed when his aunt smothered him with affection.

“I’ll be sure to bring her by again,” he said.

Lucia clapped her hands and sprang to her feet. Her energy was out of this world. I could only hope to be that spirited when I reached sixty-seven. “Good,” she chirped. “Now, dessert.”

I sat taller at the word dessert, and Damian chuckled. I ignored him, but a smile tugged at my lips. I’d never deny that my sweet tooth was out of control since my pregnancy. When Lucia disappeared into the kitchen, Damian turned to me with a smile.

“You’ve finally relaxed,” he observed. “I’m glad.”

“Your aunt is so warm. It’s hard not to be at ease in her presence.” And not once did she pry about the status of our relationship. I caught her watching Damian and me closely and with curiosity whenever we interacted, but she didn’t say a word. “And she’s a riot.”

He grunted. “You haven’t seen anything yet. Just wait.”

“You mean there’s more?” I joked.

If Aunt Lucia got any more entertaining, I just might pee my pants. I already spent about an hour giggling nonstop, listening to her and Damian’s crazy back and forths.

Lucia flounced back into the room, carrying a plate in one hand and a bottle of something in the other. “I made pastelito de guayaba. Cassandra, this is a traditional Cuban pastry. Damian couldn’t get enough of it as a kid, and it’s still his favorite.”

I smiled, glad for the morsel of information. I’d have to learn how to prepare pastelito de guayaba so I could make him his favorite dessert. My smile faltered. Why would my mind even go there? As if Damian and I would end up living in domestic bliss, happily ever after as a couple.

Shaking off my wayward thoughts, I said, “I’ve never had it, but it looks delicious.” I eyed the pastries lining the dish with eagerness as Lucia placed it in the middle of the table. “May I?” I asked.

Lucia laughed. “Of course. I love that you have a healthy appetite.”

Healthy was putting it nicely. My appetite had been out of control lately.

Damian smiled approvingly as I took a bite of the pastry. He always had this satisfied look when he watched me eat. “How is it?”

I moaned with sheer pleasure as the taste of sweetened cream cheese and guava exploded on my tastebuds. “It’s delicious. Lucia, I’m going to need you to teach me how to make this,” I blurted. There I went, talking as if Damian and I would be one happy family. I’d unintentionally inserted myself into his.

Neither of them seemed to mind. Damian chuckled and Lucia squealed her delight. “I’d love to.” She beamed at her nephew. “I like her very much. Your father will too.”

“We’re heading to the retirement home after this,” Damian shared. “I know he’ll love Cass.” He gave me a quick smile.

My face heated up, but it was from contentment. I was relieved Damian’s family accepted me. His hand moved over my thigh under the table, and I was sure my cheeks got even redder.

“That’s wonderful.” Lucia frowned. “I introduced Barry to your father a few months ago.”

Damian grunted. “I heard.”

“Then you know it didn’t go well. Luis didn’t like him much.”

“Of course, Dad didn’t like him, tiá. What did you expect?”

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