by Amarie Avant
“No. Dario refused to see me. I’m done, Dominic. Next time you see him, tell ‘em he’s been disowned. I’ll take Mami’s wrath in heaven over another look at that!”
Won’t be a next time for me, but I’ll explain that to Papi when he calms down. “Okay. I have a meeting to get to. I’ll drop you off at the house. Later, croqueta?”
“Bueno,” he mutters.
Per Yasiel, Aria moved out of her apartment the day she left the hospital. It hurts how we share one friend in common, and she didn’t cut ties with him too. The day I returned from New York, history repeated itself. However, now, I watch her from afar. It’s funny. She’s living life, and I’m on pause. She moved back home with her abuelo.
I’d followed Aria and Roslyn to an abortion clinic. It took everything out of me not to intervene as they sat in her car. Was she getting rid of my child? Dario’s child? I’d gotten closer, rain drenching down, but they drove off.
It took a while, but I found that Roslyn’s belly’s growing, not Aria. This is their second week in Lamaze class, though they’ve taken other courses here.
In a business complex, couples stream out of the class on the second floor. From the parking lot below, I brace myself for Aria’s exit, not taking a single inhale of oxygen. She walks out, laughing at something Roslyn says. With a small crowd around them, I can’t take my eyes off her as they wander down the cement steps.
Aria glances in my direction. I stare relentlessly, unlike when she hid behind trees while jogging after me. I catch her eye, making contact for a fragment of a second. The glow in her face dims until she focuses on responding to her crew.
Now, I’m on personal terms with the pained vulnerability behind her eyes when admitting she loved me. Shit hurts. They start past me. At the last second, she stops.
“You’re the worst, Dominic. I counted six palm trees for you to choose from when I walked down.”
Maybe it’s my imagination, but I try to believe there’s no fire in her gaze as she smiles at her own joke. That the flawless makeup on her face and how her lips curve into a soft smile are all show. She can’t be happy. I’m fucking miserable.
“No hiding from me, mami.”
A breeze jostles a few kinky strands across her face.
I ask, “You still need more time?”
Licking her lips, she glances toward the ground. “Dom, we’ve officially unknown each other. It’s been four months. Hell, the good times didn’t last this long.”
“One hundred-twenty-four days to be exact. Doesn’t matter. I miss you every day. Sounds like you’ve counted too.”
Reluctant brown eyes catch my gaze. “Find another chula, Dom. Someone not like me or Alejandra.”
“You’re not like Alejandra.” I clasp her hand, bringing her closer to me. I’d kept my distance, uncertain how my resemblance to Dario might catch her off guard. Make her think of my hermano.
But I can’t let her go. The crown of her head rests beneath my chin. Her soft breath teases the opening of my button-down.
“I can’t stop loving you. I made the mistake of guarding myself, not admitting the truth sooner. Aria, you watched me about the same amount of time before I found you—”
“Did I?” The warmth of her hands feels so good against my chest like embers, until they burn, pushing at me.
“Sí!” I clasp tighter.
“What if, on some of those occasions, I unknowingly watched Dario?”
I can’t take it, his name exiting her mouth. It’s insanity. “Then talk to me, Aria.”
“Tell you all the times I assumed I was screwing you, not your brother?” she shouts. Embarrassment flames across her cheeks as an expecting couple glowers at her while passing by.
“I caught feelings for him too. Should we discuss that, Dom?”
“I don’t care how you felt about him, Aria.”
“Why?”
I toss a fist at my chest, done falling apart. “Because every second he touched you, you thought of me.”
Chapter Eighty-Two
Aria
Tears transform my vision into a kaleidoscope. The couple who glowered at me like scum has disappeared. My sight’s yellow. The sunlight dominates all my senses, blaring down on me. I squirm beneath the light of honesty.
“Let me go,” I beg, voice hoarse. My fingers tug, but he holds me captive. “I’ve started to realize my relationship with him pretty much extends back as far as my relationship with you. The entire time, Dominic. There you have it. The truth.”
“Bueno, mami,” he says, knuckles gliding through the tears on my cheeks. “I’m good with the truth. Let’s start there.”
I wheeze over the words. “Okay, so we can dissect how stupid I was?”
“Dario manipulated you!”
“This isn’t all his fault, Dom. I fell too hard! My feelings for you blinded me. So in love with you, exhilarated by the way you looked at me, touched me. I created nirvana around the thought of you. Then, that bastard—”
His fingers knot into my hair, rubbing softly. “Slow down for me, mami, breathe.”
“When you were in Cuba, Dario and I . . .” I begin, struggling to stay anchored to this plain. What if I say too much? But if I don’t, I’ll explode.
Emotions blanched, I murmur against his hard chest, “Goodbye, Dominic. Your mother was a wise woman. So, I’m saying goodbye. You deserve better than history repeating itself.”
My sanctuary crashes around me as Dominic’s ropy arms fall to his sides. He steps back. Heart thundering in my chest, I move one foot in front of the other. Maybe my heart will detonate in my chest later. I’d rather shatter into a billion pieces and die than Dominic decide my revelations are too much later.
If I tell him about the rooftop restaurant or the gym, he may have strength enough to stay. But what happens when I share how Dario and I declared our love to each other while he was in Cuba? My hands tremble at the thought of the photos I’d taken of Dario, with Dario. The devil blinded me.
I dare not look back while pacing along the side of the building where Roslyn parked. She’d chosen a shady tree, pretty far from the general area. As my eyes roam over the parking spot, I mumble, “Ros left me! She friggen—”
My body’s pressed against the wall, hands raised above my head. Dominic glances down at me.
“What the hell are you doing?” I squeak. “I could have PTSD!”
“You have chili peppers in your blood. You’re good, mami.” He towers over me. “Also, walls are the only place where I can get it through your thick head to listen to me.”
Angered, I snort, “Dario had me up against the wall, too.”
“Where else?” he asks. It lacks the animosity I’d have if the shoe were on the other foot.
In a desperate attempt to cling to indifference, I play my heart for a fool by looking into his eyes. Big mistake. “Let’s not play this game, Dominic.”
“The one where I’m here for you, supporting you?”
“I take care of myself. Always have.”
It starts low, a vibration in his chest as he mutters sensually in Spanish, cursing my tenacity, calling me loca.
“Ha! I’ve endured worse, Dom. Most people spend their life searching for a purpose. I may not know the outcome of my twin’s story. Crazy as I seem, I see I helped El Santo’s girls—made sure he didn’t collect another one.”
“You’re so beautiful; it fucking hurts.” Dominic drags his lips over the side of my face. He cups my other cheekbone, ceasing my retreat. “In a few short months, you gave me a lifetime worth of love.”
“I’m happy you feel that way,” I reply in a tone my therapist, Dr. Linde, often utilized. “Now, let me go.”
“Mírame, mami. Sí, keep those pretty eyes on me so I can share exactly what I will do for you, Aria. Letting go isn’t an option. I’ll make you love me again.”
“I never stopped loving you,” I exclaim. “I mean, I . . .”
A smile breaks across his impossibly attractiv
e features. God spent an entire day molding this one—inside and out. My soul lights on fire as I reminisce on his body, rocking against mine. Thrilling electricity buzzes through me, jump-starting my heart. I saw him the first day he stalked me back. My longest-running friend, guilt, had a hold on me so tight, I refused to see Dominic.
Amid dropping kisses all over my face, Dominic asks, “You still love me?”
“Where’s the infinite confidence, Dom? The big head, the conceited expectation?”
Giddy contentment swirls around me, tenfold stronger than before. He’d signed his name on my heart. We may have to climb Mount Everest to differentiate some dysfunctional scenes, including myself and his brother. But I know the day Dominic Ángel Alverez swept me off my feet, and he knows the day he fell for me too.
Extended Epilogue: Aria
Two years later
Santa Barbara. I can’t help but imagine the coastline of California while Dominic drives along the Miami shoreline. Forking my bottom lip through my teeth, I contemplate how my therapist suggested writing one single word on the back of one of the many photographs that I had taken. Instead, I wrote, “Santa Barbara.” It had taken me a few weeks to consider Dr. Linde’s request, let alone find my favorite vintage camera in the attic of the new home Dominic and I share. After which, I spent days in my darkroom developing photos of—Dario and me.
On that day, in particular, I’d have to be crazy not to believe he loved me. We’d lain in bed at my old apartment, discussing a place where only we could go. We fantasized about new beginnings as new lovers do. But that psychotic bastard shouldn’t get all the blame. God, I’d been so stupid not to realize who he was back then.
Before that day, Dario had never allowed me to take a picture of him. With Dr. Linde’s help, I processed the reason why he finally had. He hadn’t intended on Dominic returning from Cuba.
“What are you thinking, chula?” Dominic asks, his thumb rubbing over my earlobe.
I turn in my seat and tilt my head. “Chula? You tried it.”
His sexy lips curve in a half-smile. “You were deep in thought.”
It's been two whole years of pulling the Band-Aid off and learning each other. But this will be deeper than we’ve ever gone. Why did Dr. Linde believe that finding my favorite old camera would bring me closure? The very camera that Dominic had used to take pictures of me the day we used Chico’s speedboat was the same one I’d used to take countless photos with his brother. We had created a life together right before Dario stabbed my heart out. I’ve told Dominic all of this before. I just never mentioned . . . Santa Barbara.
“I did something crazy the other day.” I blurt it out, unable to stare into his handsome face and not come clean.
“What did you do?”
“Dr. Linde made a suggestion,” I begin.
“Bueno. I like her,” Dominic replies while paying for parking. “I like that you’ve worked with Dr. Linde all these years after moving to Florida. She really knows you. And she’s said the same things I do, only a million times more. Like, fuck your mother for—”
“Dr. Linde never said, ‘fuck my mom.’ ”
“Eh, in other words.” He smiles and pushes my silk dress up to clasp the inside of my thigh as we drive past the toll gate. His tone becomes sincere. “You’re such a good woman, mami. We just went to Puerto Rico at the beginning of the summer, yet you don’t want to celebrate your birthday. What’s that about?”
I shrug. “Birthdays aren’t my scene. Netflix and chill are.”
“We did that last year.”
“Disney Plus and . . .”
Dominic swoops into a parking spot. Yachts lined up in a row float across from us. “No bueno, Aria. Birthdays are your scene. For little Rolando’s first birthday―”
“You can’t use my godson to build a case. Ros is the best momma ever, but Rolando deserves more than Francisco. He’s MIA again.”
“Okay, then. Your abuelo complains about his birthdays. Still, you do something for him. You put others before yourself, Aria. Case in point, Siobhan told me about the necklace.” His fingers skim across my empty neckline. “Back to the craziness, Aria. What have you been up to, mami?”
My head sinks back against the buttery-soft headrest. “I told you everything when it came to Dario. We figured out all the times he was with me. The smoking . . .”
“Sí,” he sighs. “You worried about the case? I can’t believe that pendejo married a rich heiress. I can’t believe he’d find someone as crazy as him. Dario has an entire law firm at his disposal. But schizoid personality disorder or not, death row has his name on it.”
I nod. “Listen, Dom, Dr. Linde assigned me the homework of finding the photos I took with Dario a few days before he was caught. I sent them to him.”
The bomb drops between us. I’d never seen the look in Dominic’s gaze—the one I expected and grew accustomed to after people found out I was the other twin. He’s aware of the sex—all of it. But instead of the look or an explosion, I’m met with silence.
Dominic’s composure is my key to continue explaining about Santa Barbara, Dario, and me. I clear my throat. “Dr. Linde calls it closure. But closure isn’t necessary, not like relationship closure.”
He squeezes my thigh again. “From the sessions I’ve attended with Dr. Linde, I’ve realized it would take years to deal with. We ride together, mami. Two short years have flown by. We have our entire lives ahead of us.”
Emotion compresses my throat. I can hardly find the words. “Dom, how did I deserve you?”
“I could ask the same question.”
“Heh. I’m just a jumble of emotions. I hate him; I pity him. Then I contemplate what your cousin, Miguel, did to him. Anyway, Dr. Linde believes the root of all my reflection is ReAnna. Though I’ll never see her again. I wanted to save El Santo’s girls—”
“Now, you want to save him.”
After a few beats, I catch Dominic’s eye contact. Those mossy green eyes, with honey wells, scare the shit out of me. The fear of him falling out of love leaves me crushed to smithereens.
He takes my hand. “You have a right to your feelings, Aria.”
“Well, the answer is I did want to save him while I was processing how I felt,” I grumble. “But you should hate me.”
“I’d rather hate your mother.” He gives my hand a little squeeze. “Now, mami, it’s your motherfucking birthday, and I’m a rich man despite Dario’s actions. So, we can Netflix, Hulu, Disney, all that shit, tomorrow since you refused a getaway.”
My lips press against the most confident man’s in the entire universe. The oxygen in my lungs dissipates.
Glasses of Dom Perignon are handed to us by an attendant at the entrance of the glass-bottom yacht. The entire hull is glass as well. I descend the steps inside and pull at Dominic’s hand, strutting in my strappy heels. These six inches are coming off after a few photos and staying off for good.
“Dom, is that Ros? Do I hear—?”
Inside, I gasp at the sight of my family. Gramps is closest to me at a dessert table. Frowning, he thrusts a pretzel stick into a chocolate fountain. Next to him, Mr. Alvarez has a matching glare until he bites into his own chocolate-covered pretzel.
Sheesh, these two. Our first holiday together, they fought about whose dearly departed wife was the better baker. I showed them pictures of me as a fat kid. Gramps won the argument.
As Yasiel tips a bottle of champagne, Rolando runs toward me. The tot falls flat on his butt.
“Mi hijo,” Roslyn chides as I scoop him up into my arms. “If it weren’t for this loaded pullup, he’d be crying.”
“I’ll go change him . . . eh, never mind.” I pause, not becoming the doormat Dr. Linde broke down and called me. I still think it’s payback for the sponge bat from when I was little. Doormat. Self-punishment. I continued the self-torment Momma started when she left.
“Cousin!” Siobhan’s voice comes from behind me, and I whip around. She’s entering with Lincoln
and their children. She reaches behind her, clasping the latch to the necklace I’d mailed her a few weeks ago. “I told you not to send this since your birthday was coming up. You never listen.”
This also pays homage to how I subconsciously believe I don’t deserve anything. But I promise, I’ve gotten better.
Over the next few hours, I’m astonished by all the affection showered on me. When Gram was alive, I had the best birthdays. She’d cook all my favorites. That was all I needed. I glance around, searching for the man I never expected so that I can return his love.
Yasiel cocks his head while standing next to a glass wall. The backdrop of exotic fish swimming by is beautiful. My fingers itch for my camera, but I don’t have to capture a single photo because I’d hounded the paid photographer earlier. Dominic covered everything.
I step over and grab the glass out of his hand. “You’ve nursed an entire bottle, Yasielito.”
“That’s what you think, mami.” He winks. “Now that I have you alone. My birthday is—”
“Three weeks. I know.” I smile.
“I’ll be eighteen. Legal.”
“Boy, stop.” Siobhan slides her arm between mine. “No entanglements happening here.
“Entanglements?” Roslyn purrs.
“I like you too, chula.” He looks her up and down. “But you have a kid. No bueno.”
“Listen here, you little . . .”
I turn toward Roslyn, who may have reformed her ways since having Rolando, but she still has a mouth. It’s good that Mr. Alvarez has her tot’s attention. As I wait for her to bite Yasielito’s head off, something catches my attention. Dominic’s floating before fronds of jagged coral. He’s traded his tuxedo for a wet suit and scuba gear. In his hand is a piece of driftwood. Carved into it are the words, MARRY ME.
I’m rendered speechless. Tears blur my eyes as I glance at my forever and nod like crazy.
