Enchanted By You

by Alexander, Hilaria

  Goodness. Up close she’s even more beautiful…and I’m scared shitless of her.

  I don’t know why, but the way she looks at me makes me feel like I need to stand up taller, as if I need to prove something, even though I don’t know what.

  Her lips are full and defined, and she’s wearing a light pink, rosy lipstick that gives a softer edge to her harsh, rocker-chick look. She even has a choker around her neck, and several bracelets, including a leather band that reminds me of the one I’ve seen on Esteban before. Now that I think of it, he hasn’t been wearing it at all since we started going out together.

  Both Lupe and Dolores join us at the same time, while we’re engaged in a silent standoff.

  “For the love of God, Reagan, leave her alone,” Lupe pleads.

  “I just want to see her up close, Lupe. I'm not here to kill her,” she says with a wolfish grin worthy of every fairy-tale villain, and I frown. Now I know why I feel the need to stand up taller. It’s because Black Beauty here might or might not be ready to poke my eyes out. “You’re Ines?” she asks again in an incredulous tone.

  “Yes, and you are?” I ask, still a bit confused, determined to keep an open mind. That is, until biker chick scoffs at me.

  “You’re nothing special,” she says with a snide smirk. It’s times like this that I wish I had a catchphrase like a heroine in a TV comedy, but I don’t think anyone would be impressed if I used Mindy Lahiri’s famous “Exqueeze me?” line from The Mindy Project or even The Office’s Kelly Kapoor’s “How dare you?”

  I raise my eyebrows in surprise and I give her a long bitch, please look.

  This is bullshit, and I’m not going to take it from gothic Miss America.

  “And you’re gorgeous, but obviously ugly inside. Now, tell me what you want with me or please get lost. I’m kind of busy, as you can see,” I tell her, gesturing toward the table and the courtyard.

  “Oh, I see how busy you are. You’ve wasted no time at all,” she implies.

  “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t understand…”

  “Reagan is Esteban’s ex-girlfriend,” Lupe intervenes. “Reagan, if you care about my brother like you say you do, please stay out of this and leave Ines alone. She doesn’t know about you and him and it’s not her fault if things ended between you two.”

  “You’re joking, right? She is the reason why your brother and I are no longer together, and the only reason why he’s been so indecisive all these years…”

  Indecisive? My accomplished Esteban? I’m confused, and I don’t understand why she thinks any of this is my fault. Sure, Esteban did break up with her right after I got to town, but it sounds like things between them were already on the rocks, at least from the little bits Lupe told me.

  “I’m going to tell Miss Southern Hospitality here how she ruined my life…”

  I frown, confused, as a victorious gleam flashes across Reagan’s eyes, the look of a cat who’s about to pounce the clueless chirpy canary. She purses her lips in amusement despite Lupe’s protests, and is just about to say something when a thunderous voice echoes through the courtyard.

  “Reagan!” Esteban’s voice takes me by surprise, mostly because the only time he’s ever raised his voice in my presence was when he told Brad off.

  His eyes widen as he takes in everything that we set up in the courtyard, and when he meets my gaze, it’s apparent he’s both alarmed and hopeful at the same time.

  He steps closer, stopping right behind me, and we exchange a look.

  “Hi,” I tell him softly.

  “Hi,” he replies with the same tenderness. Then he looks at Reagan, and there’s only anger in his expression and his voice.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Oh, come on, Esteban. I didn’t mean any harm, I swear,” she says, raising her hands up defensively. “I just wanted to meet the famous Ines, that’s all.”

  Famous Ines? Sure, people around town have seen us together, but no one has made a fuss about us. No one except Reagan.

  I narrow my eyes at her and fold my arms across my chest, letting out a frustrated breath.

  “I had to see who the woman who stole my Esteban’s heart was,” she says, glancing toward Lupe and Esteban both. Lupe seems even more frustrated than I am. She’s clutching the back of a chair so hard, her knuckles turn white.

  I don’t know what happened between Reagan and Esteban, but I can tell that there’s no love lost between her and Lupe.

  “You saw me and said I was nothing special,” I tell her, and I hear Esteban hiss behind me. “Now you can just leave. As you can see, we’re busy. I don’t have any time to waste in a standoff with you, gothic Barbie. I don’t give a damn that you and Esteban used to date. He’s my Esteban now. And you ruined his birthday surprise, thank you very much. So, leave.”

  She laughs, and I can’t tell if it’s out of nervousness or amusement, but she has enough nerve to ask, “Or what?”

  “Or I’ll call the cops and I’ll make you,” Lupe cuts in, placing herself between me and Reagan. “This is my property and you are persona non grata. Leave, Reagan.”

  Esteban’s arm comes around my waist and Reagan doesn’t miss it. Her lips twist in an angry pout and she resentfully glares at the two of us. For a moment, she looks like she’s about to cry, but then she straightens up and storms off.

  “Go to hell, all of you. And fuck you, Esteban.”

  “Noted,” Esteban mutters against my hair without turning around.

  Reagan leaves the courtyard and I watch her stomping away, like Maleficent, who failed to ruin the party for everyone. Well, in a way she succeeded.

  She ruined Esteban’s surprise.

  “Please tell me we won’t be receiving any more visits from scorned ex-girlfriends,” I say when I turn to Esteban.

  He shakes his head and gives me a long look. He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear.

  “I’m sorry you had to deal with her. Are you okay?”

  “I am. I’m just sad she ruined your surprise birthday party. Also, what the fuck is her problem?” Well, I get it. I’d be heartbroken if I lost him, but going around insulting strangers is definitely not my style.

  “I’m sorry. It’s my fault,” he says.

  “I mean, I understand it…I think. I’d be crusty, too, if I lost you to someone else, but I thought things between you two weren’t great to begin with…”

  “They weren’t. Reagan is…Reagan. She can be…as prickly as a cactus.”

  I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my head on his chest. He kisses the top of my head. “I can’t believe she’s still so angry about our breakup.”

  “I can’t believe she had the nerve to call her plain! I can’t believe we all had to put up with her that long, Esteban! Ugh!” Lupe admonishes him. I pull back from his embrace, and he winces, glancing at his sister briefly.

  Then, his jaw locks, as if he’s bracing for my questions.

  “Wait…how long did you guys date?”

  “We’ve dated on and off for a few years.”

  “How many, Esteban?” I ask with a certain impatience.

  “Ines, I honestly don’t know how long we’ve dated. We were a couple in high school, and broke up after three, four years?”

  “So you broke up when you were how old?”

  “Twenty-one?” he says in a questioning tone, as if he couldn’t honestly remember.

  “And how many times did you hook up since?” Lupe asks, and Esteban gives her a long, hard look. I glance at him first, and her next, looking for answers. “It really isn’t his fault. It’s more that she’s like a fucking annoying mosquito, always buzzing around, ready to suck his blood during a moment of weakness.”

  “Is that true?”

  He nods, lips stretched in a line, looking embarrassed more than anything else.

  “When did you hook up last?” I ask him.

  He pauses and looks up, exhaling before locking eyes with me again. “It had to be…a couple of
days before you and I met.”

  I take in his words and look down, considering what he said. I frown.

  “Wait…you hooked up a few days before we met? And then what?”

  “I broke up with her, once and for all. I told her it didn’t feel right.” Esteban’s eyes are clouded with worry, carefully studying my reaction.

  A thought crosses my mind.

  “You didn’t…you didn’t break up with her because of me, right? After all, we’d just met. Sorry, sorry, I’m being presumptuous,” I say, waving a hand in dismissal, but he takes it in his, and places it over his heart. I thought the fact he’d broken up with his girlfriend around the time I got to town was a coincidence. When Lupe told me that back in July, we’d just kissed. I didn’t want to be presumptuous and think it had anything to do with me.

  “What if I did?” he asks.

  “Huh? Are you serious?” I ask him, incredulous.

  “Do you remember how you felt when we met? Because I remember how it was for me.” A fuzzy feeling spreads in my chest, and my cheeks flush. My throat closes up on me, and I can barely nod and lick my lips.

  I do remember. I was attracted to him even then, and I didn’t understand why. I didn’t understand the pull I felt then, but here we are now. From the corner of my eye, I see Lupe and Dolores leave, heading toward the store, presumably to give us some time alone. Esteban’s arms wrap tighter around me, as if he’s afraid I’ll slip away. But he is wrong. There is nowhere else I’d rather be.

  “You broke up with her because of me?”

  He runs a hand through my hair, his eyes soft and hazy. “I told you that before, remember? On our first night, I told you I wanted to get to know you since the first time I saw you. What I felt for you since the first time I saw you…I’ve never felt it for anyone else. I knew I was supposed to be with you.”

  There’s nothing I can say to his words, because they make sense to me. That’s how I feel about him, about us.

  I reach for his lips and I kiss him. “Happy Birthday, Esteban.”

  “Thank you. Now, why don’t you show me what you were doing before you were so rudely interrupted?”

  “Come.” I take his hand and I lead him up the stairs to Dolores’ house.

  Luckily, I had just gotten started with the cake. If I had added any baking soda or baking powder, I would have to throw it away and start all over again.

  Esteban looks around, taking in everything, and then stops.

  “Is that…?”

  “Your abuela’s recipe. Lupe gave it to me,” I say excitedly, clapping my hands.

  He reaches for the spatula and licks it, giving me a mischievous look. I’m sad that Reagan ruined the surprise, but I’m enjoying this too much to care.

  “Maybe another time…we need to do this.”

  “Do what?” he asks with an amused gleam in his eyes as he takes a small scoop of batter and feeds it to me.

  “Me. You. And cake batter.”

  His expression darkens instantly but then he flashes a naughty grin. “Sounds like a plan.”

  “I’m sorry your surprise got ruined.”

  “Me too. But guess what? Now I get to count the hours until I can come back here and enjoy my evening with you.” He runs his fingers across my cheek, and I have to fight the impulse to drag him across the courtyard, straight to my apartment…and my bed.

  “I can’t wait, Ines,” he mumbles against my lips.

  “Then you should go, so I can have everything ready by the time you come back,” I say reluctantly, keeping a solid hold on his arms.

  “Thank you for all of this. I love you,” he says and then he leans down to kiss me, slow and passionate, both of us tasting of chocolate and chile.

  “I love you,” I respond, before my lips mold to his again. The spicy heat of the chile makes my lips tingly, and the passion of his kiss ignites a fire in my chest that burns bright and strong…along with the other one below my belly.

  I can’t wait for Esteban to extinguish the flames later tonight.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It’s been weeks since I signed the papers and Richard, Lily’s father and my attorney, told me that we’ve been scheduled for a hearing in late November.

  I thought a hearing wouldn’t be necessary since our divorce is consensual, but Richard told me that every once in a while, the court might require a routine hearing.

  Lucky me.

  Ever since he gave me the news, I’ve been in a rut. I haven’t been able to do anything all morning, and I want to cry. I can’t even figure out why, exactly. I’m not sure if I’m more distraught about the hearing date, that my divorce is about to become a reality, or that I will need to leave my temporary home at some point. I know that I’ll have to go back and move my stuff from my LA home, but I hate the idea of going back with a passion. Just thinking about leaving this place and going back to LA makes me depressed. My body feels heavy, and I can’t find any reasons to smile about it. Not even the thought of seeing Lily again or visiting my parents’ grave makes it better.

  Is it possible that New Mexico has gotten so far under my skin that just the thought of leaving depresses me? In the meantime, I decide to enjoy my time here, and try to decide what to do after the divorce. Things between Esteban and me are getting serious, but neither one of us has spoken about the future yet.

  “If I move out here, will you sell me this truck?” The words are out of my mouth before I realize it. Esteban promised to take me to the Elena Gallegos Open Space, and before we left, I offered to drive.

  He smiled and threw me the keys.

  “If you move out here, I will give you the truck,” he says without missing a beat, making me realize my words haven’t fazed him one bit. This is the first time either one of us has mentioned anything about the future.

  “That’s nice of you, but it’s not necessary. Or maybe I should look for one like this, and have it painted the same shade of turquoise. We could have twin trucks.” I wink at him, and a chuckle escapes his lips before they curl into an amused grin.

  “I’m not opposed to the idea.”

  “Do I keep going straight?” I ask when I reach the next intersection on the old state highway where we’re driving. He’s giving me directions, since he’s been to the place many, many times.

  “Actually, before we go to the park, there’s a place I want to show you. Take a left here, we’re going on a little detour,” he says.

  I quirk an eyebrow at him, curious.

  “Where are we going first?”

  “You’ll see.” A knowing smile stretches across his face, and I frown. “I have a feeling you’re going to like this.”

  “Okay,” I reply with a shrug. Esteban’s directions take us away from the main highway we were on, and eventually he leads us into a residential area. If I’m not mistaken, we’re on the northeast side of Albuquerque.

  We pass rows upon rows of small, fifties-style suburban family homes.

  “Park over here on the right,” Esteban says.

  I do as he asks, frowning, while he has a smug smile painted across his face.

  “I’m confused. Why are we here?” I ask, looking around. Are we here to see someone in particular? Why did we need to stop now? I hope we’re not going to miss the sunset, the whole reason why we’re even going to the Gallegos Open Space.

  He points his finger to an unassuming little house across the street.

  “Jim Morrison lived in that house when he was twelve.”

  “Are you serious?” I ask, my voice higher than usual.

  “I wouldn’t lie to you about something like this.” My mouth is agape, while my eyes dart between the house and Esteban, who shrugs.

  “Albuquerque, you fascinating, mysterious thing,” I mutter to myself. “By the way, how did you know I would like this? Can you read minds?” I mumble, eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

  “Your shirt, Ines,” he laughs and I roll my eyes.

  “Duh. Of course.” I
look down at my faded The Doors “Waiting For the Sun” sleeveless T-shirt, with a big orange sun and the silhouettes of the members of the band I’d decided to wear on our outing. I’d paired it with a long, white eyelet skirt I got from a boutique on Central Avenue.

  I smile, pursing my lips, looking at Esteban’s bright, amused green eyes for a moment.

  “Jim Morrison lived in that house? Huh.”

  “Apparently between the ages of twelve and fourteen. A very nice lady owns it, but some local fans have been talking about turning it into a museum someday.”

  “Imagine that. I had no idea.”

  “The owner of the house claims that she’s heard an organ play before in one of the rooms of the house.”

  “No way!” I pause to think. “Wait. That’s bullshit. Jim Morrison didn’t play any instruments.”

  “He did play the synth on Strange Days and the piano on Orange County Suite.”

  I frown and Esteban shrugs. “I looked it up,” he says simply.

  “Huh. I wonder if it’s really the ghost of Jim Morrison, or someone else’s.”

  “I knew you were going to like that,” he laughs.

  “You might not believe me, but I’ve never been fascinated with ghost stories before moving to Albuquerque.”

  Esteban stares longingly at me, without saying a word.

  “What’s up?”

  “Is there something I should know? Did you move to Albuquerque permanently?” he asks with the shy smile of a guy who doesn’t want to pry.

  I let out a laugh. “Oh, that. Well, you know what I meant…” I give him a knowing look. Truthfully, I didn’t even realize that’s what I’d said, but in a way I do feel like I’m putting roots down out here in the desert.

  Esteban nods, as if my answer disappointed him.

  “We should go, before with miss the sunset,” he says in a warm, soft tone, and not an ounce of resentment.

  “Yes! Let’s go.” I look before pulling out of the parking spot, and I give one last look at the house where Jim Morrison once lived, and I start mumbling the lyrics of “Moonlight Drive.”

  Esteban feeds me directions and we drive in silence for a while after we get on the interstate.